The True Monster
by racfwrites
Summary: In Victorian London, a nameless, world-weary maid drowns in the dark work given to her by her masters. Jaded and ashamed, her world changes forever when Remilia Scarlet - a vampiric mistress of fate - takes an interest in her existence. Rated M for violence.
1. Chapter 1

"What are you looking at?"

The words, snarled and vicious, snapped the servant out of her daydreaming. Daydreaming… the moonlight splashed the water of the mansion's fountain silver, the brickwork ivory, and the girl she'd startled a pale shade.

"I just, umm…" The servant said numbly, dumbly, her mind gradually waking from its slumber.

"Why do you look at me so?!" The girl growled again. The servant's silver eyes darted here and there, searching for an excuse, an escape, but the girl had her locked in with that gaze, with eyes as red as rubies. As red as her dress…

"I-I was astonished by your beauty, little miss. I am sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." The servant girl stammered.

The girl looked on at her, her eyes struck wide before they narrowed, boring down on the servant girl.  
The servant saw the way the girl's hands balled. A girl so slight and so small couldn't possibly strike her tellingly – and the servant girl was accustomed to the treatment that had left purple-blue blotches beneath her dress – but nevertheless she felt a certain dread.  
Then the girl sniffled, her fists shaking before her fingers flew into her hair.  
She started to cry. Hard. She cried hard and tried hard not to be too loud.  
Despite her fear, the servant stood there.

"Who hurt you, little miss?" The servant asked.

"L-lady De Vere." The girl sobbed.  
"Ah. That nasty little witch. I really-" The servant sighed, a moment's impropriety snapping her eyes wide.

She saw that the girl with the red eyes and the light-blue hair was looking up at her through the veil of tears and the cage of her fingers.  
"Little miss, I apologise, that was wrong of me to speak out of turn-" The servant gabbled.

"No!" The noble daughter started, before going quieter, "No, go on."

The servant blinked, looking on at her. "Go on?"

"Yeah. What's lady De Vere?" The girl asked, those wide red eyes watching her warily.

The servant looked on, unsure what to think. Was the girl looking for something to use, to put herself in Olivia De Vere's good graces? To out a gossipy servant girl?  
_What would her masters do if they realized?  
What could they do that they haven't already?_  
She hesitated a moment longer, staring on at the sniffling child before she at last sighed.

"Lady Olivia De Vere…" The servant knelt beside the girl, "Is a nasty piece of work who snipes and damns just about everyone with jealous spite. Spreading nasty little rumours. If I were her cook, I'd put slugs in her soup and dog food in her pie."  
The girl giggled, and the servant felt immense gratitude when she saw that smile.  
"If you were the cook, she'd," the girl paused, caught between laughing and sniffling, "She'd know you were to blame."

"Ach. You're right! Damn…" The servant mock-scowled as she struck her knee with such suddenness it made the girl with the red eyes jump. Then her fingers clicked. "I will shave her dog."

"Yes!" The girl nodded.

"Put itching powder in her drawers."

The girl laughed.

"Plaster the walls of the town hall with her diary's entries."

"Yes, yes!" The girl cheered.

The servant and the girl sat there in the courtyard for a few minutes more, assassinating the girl's tormentor and concocting all manner of impish shenanigans. It was a childish, graceless conversation all about petty revenge.  
But it served as an escape for the both of them, a few minutes reprieve from a world that cared about rank, composure, class, propriety and deceit.  
Then, far too soon, the servant heard her name being called. She made a heartfelt sigh, knowing she'd be talked to sternly by the butler of the household.

"Shouldn't you be going soon?" The girl asked.

"I suppose I should." The servant whispered.

"You were called for." The girl said.

"Yes." The servant agreed.

"You might lose your job." The girl pouted.

"Ah, if only." The servant said.  
A little too hopefully.  
The girl watched as the servant shook off that moment of honesty and made to get up.

"I didn't say you could go yet." The girl pointed out.

The servant hesitated, her silver eyes lowering as she nodded.

"Apologies - I'm afraid I answer my masters and De Vere's senior staff long before I answer to you, little miss. I cannot leave them waiting, as you implied."

"What's your name?" The girl with the red eyes asked.

The servant gave it.

"That is a boring name." The girl said archly.

"Why yes, I suppose it is." The servant shrugged, clearly too tired to argue.

"I will name you Sakuya." Remilia Scarlet said as though she was stating a fact.

The servant blinked, smiling good-humouredly. "Ignore her."

"Hmm?" Remilia said.  
"If Olivia De Vere-"  
She paused as she heard the head butler shout for her.  
"Yes, coming! Now," She turned back to Remilia, "Just ignore her, for now. Later, get a tutor, Mr Osborne on Avalon Lane, I've-"

"Avalon?" Remilia's red eyes flashed, her mouth opening a fraction.

"Avalon Lane, yes, Mr Osborne, he is apparently very good with teaching girls how to talk 'rich', move, to flow through… well, things like this." The servant managed, splaying her hand to encompass the surrounding mansion and the high society that it contained.

Remilia looked on at the servant girl.  
And smiled. Widely. "We'll meet again, Sakuya." She promised.  
The servant looked on, liking nothing more than to talk to her again. Then she thought about her obligations. The complications that could arise.

"I hope so." The servant lied.  
Remilia watched her fondly as the commoner hastily withdrew back into the mansion. The young noblewoman's gaze lowered to register the thread snapping this way and that after the servant girl. Her ghostly pianist's fingers closed around it.

The servant closed the squealing wooden door behind her and was stunned for a second, all of her worries and woes replaced by a single, empty-headed moment – as though she had walked into a room only to forget what she had entered it for.  
"Very prominent canines." She mused, her voice a dream before she returned to the hectic shift of a maid – and the demands of her masters.

* * *

In the end, the master butler was kindly in his remonstrations, taking the servant to one side at the end of the evening.  
"My dear, I must apologise for being brisk with you, tensions run high when Mr De Vere hosts his parties – between you and I, I feel five courses is two too many, even for the most extravagant of souls." He was an old man with a lined face, possessing a warm laugh and a mouth that was unaccustomed to smiling.  
To the servant girl, that only made the apologetic, lop-sided grin all the more valuable.  
"Honestly, I feel you performed very well today. It'd be an honour to have you and yours for dinner again, with you parti-  
Miss? Are you well?"

The servant waved off the concern as she tried to find her voice.

"I'm alright, I'm…" She floundered for an excuse, "Just a little overwhelmed from the day's activities, I'm sorry!"

The master butler looked on at her in consternation, before he nodded. "Ah. Well then, let's find you a chair, after all-"

"Ah, there she is!" A voice like velvet rolled over the master butler's comforting, fumbling bluster.  
The servant swallowed, her silver eyes regarding the man who had entered. Rangy. Strong. His features were hawk-like, his brown eyes as cold as river stones.

"My dear, we really must be going. Would you fetch my umbrella?"

She watched herself move to obey, though she felt devoid of agency. She did not escort the man; rather, she was led by him. Gently, whilst people could see them.

"That's it, my dear. One step at a time, good show! Hold the handle lightly but firmly, you're not strangling the bloody thing."

The servant swayed in her step, feeling as though she might throw up. Soon, the grey, fuzzing world of a rain lashed street was replaced with the cloying closeness of a carriage shared with _him.  
_  
"So? Did you make a friend?" He asked her as silver flashed in his hand. He was a precise man.  
_Don't. Please, let's not…  
_  
"Darling, you're- you're not ignoring me, are you?" He asked, exactly six seconds later, his eyes watching the minute hand with interest.  
His tone reminded her of the black powder pistols she'd seen used by naval officers. One wrong word, one moment longer, and her vision would explode into flashing thunder and blinding pain, she knew.

"I believe I found someone suitable." Her voice was a whisper.

"Ahhh, someone took a liking to you? That's my good little spider," He whispered, his smile shining, "Go on, give us a name."  
She thought of the noblewoman she had met in the courtyard. Her eyes widened. She hadn't gotten her name.  
She swallowed again, her mouth opening.

"I-In my hysteria, I think I failed to ask for it."

He closed the pocket watch with a mechanical click. The servant girl's mouth grew thin as darkness shrouded her master. Despite the bounce and clatter of carriage travel, she could hear the creak of leather and see the way his hand shook as he squeezed his watch.

"By god, you're a stupid, stupid girl." He hissed.

"Yes." She agreed, trying to make herself small.

"Wrack your brain. Give me a name, or I'll…" He forced a smile, his eyes manic as they stared her down.  
_Don't make me do it.  
_  
"Olivia De Vere." The servant rushed out.  
And like that, her master's mania faded, replaced with that hard, plastic smile.

"Oh, my dear girl, you got it in the end! Though, I am surprised. Won't she be missed? Is she conventional in her tastes, or is she something of a deviant, preferring, well…" He indicated her to divulge more with a sliding hand, his hawk like features watching her.

But the servant sat back, staring into space in silent resignation.

"Ah… Perhaps we should consider releasing you from our service…" He sighed, perching his chin on the palm of his hand as his gaze went to the window, watching the gaslights and dollhouses of Victorian England pass them by.

* * *

_That bitch._  
Remilia's gloved fists remained stiffly at her sides as she stormed her way up the stairs to her suite.  
_That bitch, if she knew who she'd been speaking to…!_  
Her fangs pressed on her bottom lip, threatening to break skin as she almost bumped into a fellow guest.  
She hissed at him, the sound so sibilant and so unnatural that he stuttered and stumbled against the wall to let her by, his goggle-eyed expression giving her a morsel of satisfaction.

When she was safely ensconced in her room, she forced herself to open her hands, her eyes hunting for something inexpensive to break. She had no intention of returning to England, and even if she did, there would be other hotels, and this one would have other managers. Human lives guttered out quickly enough. It was simply force of habit, to look for something cheap to vent her rage on.  
"Patchy, she's such a bitch…" She whined to herself, giving up. She'd wished she'd brought her old friend along, though at the same time she was gladdened that Patchy hadn't been around to see her lose her composure, or hear her fling the word 'bitch' around so casually.  
Or to fraternize with a commoner.

_Oh, yes, her!  
_  
Remilia's scowl disappeared as she stopped thinking of Olivia De Vere and started thinking of the servant girl, the one with the silver hair, silver eyes. Plain, but pretty. Shabbily clothed, but she moved with such form.  
What's more, she had, without payment – and without fear, too, that was remarkable – cared to help her, when everyone had averted their eyes, excused themselves or tittered behind their hands and fans _like the coy little third-rate half-breed b-_  
_What was her name?_ Remilia furrowed her brow for a moment as she whisked up the servant girl's skein, the thread trailing after her as she moved. She pondered on the name for a few moments more as she crossed the room to the curtain flanked portal where moonlight streamed in from.  
Sakuya, that was it.  
Remilia brought the fraying, greying thread into the light, turning it in her hands.  
_Huh._  
_T'was a shame, it seems as though it was reaching its end._  
It was a puzzling thing, and a little sad, too. She'd seemed healthy enough when they'd spoken. Apparently, she would not make it through the night, if fate had its way.  
_Well, that wouldn't do. Not when she'd been ever so interesting._  
Remilia took the end between finger and thumb and concentrated…  
And like that, the thread wound on, unspooling inch by inch, gaining length seemingly from nowhere. She smiled to herself.

"So fragile…" She sighed, "Now, _where_ should we meet…"

* * *

"Ah, shit," The master exclaimed loudly enough to startle the servant girl, "But I promised my sister. She's taken a shine to you, you know."  
The servant blinked, nodding docilely.

"So we'll take you home, see you disciplined, that you might remember how the dance is done." The master told her, smiling pitilessly.

"Yes, master."

"…Circus is in town this weekend, if memory serves." The master murmured, a bemused expression on his face.

* * *

Remilia sighed pleasantly, thinking of elephants, lions and the silver haired servant girl as she prepared for bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Present Gensokyo**  
_  
What a depressing room.  
_Reimu's words._  
_The scarlet devil mulled them over as she stared up at the first painting. Upon the canvas was a table that had a single scroll resting on its surface, a pot of ink, a calligrapher's brush. The table was surrounded by a trio of figures.  
Yukari Yakumo in an indigo dress, in all her foreboding majesty. Her interest was on the document.  
Ran Yakumo, the gap youkai's enforcer, arms hidden within the folds of her still bloody sleeves, nine bristling tails behind her. Her sleek features were fixed on, well…  
It was Remilia, of long ago. Her small body was clad in the ruined burgundy plate custom-made for the occasion. Her black wings rested on her back, the skin tattered and singed, with one gauntleted hand resting by the brush left on the table.  
Her expression was stoic. Distinguished.  
Tired.  
Remilia's red eyes slipped down to the plaque embedded into the picture's border. 'The treaty'.  
_The betrayal, some might call it._  
She left the picture, sauntering over the gallery's burgundy carpet.  
_What a depressing room._  
Of course, in the moment, Remilia had inwardly simmered at the shrine maiden's careless honesty, but now…  
Well…  
She moved from painting to painting, feeling the shrine maiden's words sawing at her.  
Here, a portrait of herself, before Gensokyo. Before the Nordics. Before London. She looked so haughty. Proud.  
Lonely.  
Remilia's brows knitted as she stared at the determined, besieged scowl on her past self's face.  
There, a piece depicting herself and Flandre. Her sister's brave smile betrayed the nervousness she had felt on the day, all alone with just her big sister there to look over her.  
Remilia smiled sadly.  
Thereafter, a family portrait of the two of them, with their parents.  
The scarlet devil's mouth became a thin line, her eyes without spark as she stared up at their imperious, generic faces.  
"Why?" She asked aloud.  
Remilia left the fake where it hung, moving on, moving past portrait after portrait of her gloomy, glaring self.  
She reached the great doors of the library, opening them before briskly walking inside.

"Hello mistress Remilia!" Koakuma shouted, fluttering down from on high with a stack of books clutched in her arms.

Remilia Scarlet smiled up at her. "No rats to worry about?" She asked.

"Oh, there was a certain black-white rat that tried her hand yesterday, but I chased her off _before_ she even got into the library!" Koakuma's smile beamed at her from beneath her red, ragged bangs.

"Ohhh, _very _good! We may have to let you pick the afternoon snack for today." Remilia said.

Koakuma's mouth opened in a big grin.

"I'd get to sit with you all as well?" She asked.

"Well, that depends if your owner is okay with that," Remilia sounded, looking on at the columns of books, "You wouldn't happen to-"

"Row C6!" Koakuma chirped, "I'll get back to work, thank you mistress!" She called as she rounded, her devil's wings sending her sailing over a shelf of books and out of sight.

Remilia felt a little sorry for Koakuma as she made her way towards the mahogany row of shelves marked 'C'. She was even more neglected than Meiling…

"By the pricking of my thumbs…" A familiar, monotone voice murmured around the bend, and like that, Remilia's spirits lifted.

"Something scary this way comes!" Remilia growled dramatically as she rounded the corner, her light pink dress and mob cap distinguishing her from the drab books and the deep red carpet.  
Patchouli Knowledge was standing there with a tome splayed in her hands, her sleepy eyes staring out beneath bangs and between ribbon-buttoned curtains of purple hair.  
"You've read Macbeth?" She asked, her voice dreary – but Remilia could see the corner of her mouth being lifted by a smile.

"It was played out before me." Remilia teased.

Patchouli shook her head as her smile widened a fraction.  
"You're not just here to lord your storied life over me." Patchouli remarked.

"Nah." Remilia admitted. For a moment, she wondered how best to phrase what weighed on her. There was no need for decorum, not in this private place.  
Patchouli's eyelids lowered.

"You're chewing the inside of your lip, aren't you?" She said.

"Maybe." Remilia murmured.

Patchouli rose an eyebrow before she turned.  
"Come along then, Remi. Let's hear it." Patchouli said.

"'Kay." Remilia said, her black wings flapping tentatively as she followed her oldest friend to her book laden desk.

* * *

**Before Gensokyo**

"You're throwing me out?"

The teenage witch seemed to push herself back into her chair, clearly uncomfortable.

"That's not how it is, Remilia." Patchouli murmured.

Remilia stared her down, her expression incredulous.  
"I'm the- I'm the scarlet devil, mistress of this mansion! You think to unseat me?! This betrayal- from _you_, I-"

"Listen to me!" Patchouli started, the interruption stealing Remilia's breath away.  
"Listen to me…" Patchouli whispered, her hands gripping the table edge as she gathered her thoughts, knowing the clock was ticking. Once Remilia was over her shock, she would get angry. Break things. She knew Remilia wouldn't hurt her.  
She told herself she knew that, that she did not merely hope.

"I've been elected to speak for those who live beneath this roof. They love you Remilia, and they've no want to be elsewhere.  
But they are afraid."

Remilia threw Patchouli a sneer. It was only an expression, and it was in the heat of things, but it hurt to be the subject of that.

"They fear for their future." Patchouli finished.

"Oh, for – they needn't be!" Remilia sighed explosively.

"We can't keep running forever." Patchouli pointed out.

"And we won't! We won't-" Remilia was cut off by Patchouli.

"Transylvania backfired. You disregarded – unfairly – my suggestion to go to Avalon-"

"You'd best mind your tone-"

"And now when I caught lightning in a bottle, _twice_," Patchouli was standing now, her voice hitching in her throat, "and found this 'Gensokyo', _and_ brought its caretaker to the table, you ruined it, _you ruined it by..._!"

"Patchy…" Remilia was aghast. This was serious.

Patchouli thrusted a palm against her own eye, hot tears plunging out between her fingers.  
She'd made Patchy cry.  
"Everyone is scared! I'm tired of moving us from place to place! Flandre wants friends! Koakuma, she-I-I-"

"Patchy." Remilia rounded the table to embrace her.  
Patchouli stood rigidly as Remilia tried to comfort her.  
"A decision needs to be made. I don't care anymore, where we go. Just…"

"Okay. Okay, Patchy. I'll-I'll take some books out of your library about etiquette, read them overnight, we can still fix it with that-"

"No!" Patchouli declared, her hands finding Remilia's shoulders.  
The frail librarian eased the vampire princess off of her. That small gesture made Remilia's heart – such as it was – plummet.  
"We tried that. We-I-If you wish to speak to her again, you'll have to learn it properly, from a teacher.  
I can cast a glamour on your wings, so-"

Remilia nodded stoically. "Very well. Fine, I can- fine. I can transform, and with money, and your glamour, I can be anyone, learn from anyone. Great."

They were afraid of her too. The few maids that had stayed on, Meiling, Koakuma, even Patchy…

"Let's, umm… Let's get this started tonight, then!" Remilia declared, all bravado even as she crumbled behind the façade. "Just as I navigated around the renaissance kings, I will conquer the ballrooms of… whatever time we happen upon – and when I return, there _will _be changes, I promise you! Alright? Patchy!"

* * *

**London**

Remilia Scarlet's shriek woke up the rest of the hotel.  
"Get the window!" She screamed for her maids as she fell out of bed as steam rose off of her burning flesh. Her eyes rushed this way and that as she hid in the cool shade beneath the bed.  
She wasn't in the mansion. She was still here.  
There were no maids to rely on. No Patchy. No Meiling. No Koakuma.  
She bared her fangs, her fists shaking as she tried to strangle the carpet.  
_I hate the outside world!_

Eventually, she'd managed to crawl her way to the window and claw the curtains shut. Eventually, she had convinced the hotel staff – through the door – that all was fine in the room, all whilst holding her temper.  
"Oh, I'm so proud of you." Remilia said tartly to the empty mirror on the room's table.  
Her shoulders sagged as she opened the drawers of her desk. Without a working mirror, she'd have to be liberal with the face powder.

She idly twirled the parasol's spine in her grip, an errant glimpse of sunshine marking her forearm and reminding her to be careful. To be vigilant.  
As she began to cross the cobbles of the waking city street, she decided that she really should've brought Meiling along. Holding up the parasol herself was tiresome.  
So she forestalled on meeting with this Mr. Osborne. First, the circus. She would take that maid from the other night and have her shadow her with the parasol. It was necessary, that was the lie Remilia told herself.

* * *

"I must say, you're being strangely charitable, baby brother."

The master's gaze flitted from place to place, watching the circus staff erect their tents and roll their canvas-screened cages into position.

"The circus doesn't happen every day. Besides, it could be a fine opportunity for us to make connections-"

He felt her long-nailed hand close around his arm, the gentleness disarming him.  
"I think it's sweet. It's been a long time since I've been to the circus."

He turned to regard the sister. Her long, gorgeous face stared him down.  
He smiled quickly back. "Anything for you, dear sister."

She watched him for a while longer before she averted her gaze.  
"You were wise to be easy on the face, I think. She could help you find suitable items."  
The master felt his stomach lurch.

"You approve, then?" He asked.

"Dear brother, I don't," She sighed, the sound wounding him, "But you have an appetite to sate.  
Go, now, take the dog. Already, spectators are arriving."

The silver-haired servant girl wordlessly followed the master as he hurried from his sister's side, her newfound bruises making every movement a trial.

* * *

Half an hour later - as fire eaters blew plumes of blazing smoke into the air and lions roared for the entertainment of the early risers – the servant girl in her long, modest black dress would find herself being pulled aside from her brooding master.

"Hello, Sakuya." Remilia cooed.

The servant girl's silver eyes widened as she looked down at the red-eyed girl, clad in a lemon-yellow dress and matching skirt. The flesh on one side of her face was pock marked by burn scars that hadn't taken to face powder, whilst the other half had the consistency of the frosting you'd find on cakes.  
The servant failed to stifle her gasp.  
"That bad, hmm?" Remilia spoke as though she was bored, "Well, you are to fix it. Come along now."  
The servant girl thought to protest, but that was only for an instant.  
She followed the scarred, red-eyed child.

"Who did this to you?" The servant girl's voice reverberated throughout the alleyway.

"I suppose God did." Remilia quipped, turning her face to allow the servant to apply makeup to her burnt cheek.

"You're being evasive, little miss." The servant girl pointed out as she daubed more powder on.

"A vampire from long ago!" Remilia said with mock-wonder, her nose wrinkling at the unpleasant memory.

"You didn't have these burns last night, little miss." The servant girl persisted.

"Oh, like you've never sidestepped an unpleasant line of questioning." Remilia said.  
The servant girl hesitated.

"Sakuya?" Remilia asked, curious about the interruption.

The servant girl gradually resumed.

"Did I say something wrong, Sakuya?" Remilia asked plainly, "Because you can tell me if I did."

Once more, the servant girl stopped.  
"No, you didn't, little miss.  
I'd still hear about the person who marked you. Was it your father?"

Remilia was silent for a moment. "I…" She waved the question aside. "Oh, it doesn't matter. What does is, Sakuya, I should like you to escort me to Mr Osborne's place on Avalon Lane."  
The servant girl smiled at that. "I must ask, who are you? To think that you can shanghai me from my current employ?"

"Shanghai- now, I know someone on my staff who you might like!" Remilia declared.

"Uhh... I should like to meet them one day, but what do I call you?" The servant girl persisted as she worked to remove the redundant layers of makeup from Remilia's face.

"Mistress will do." Remilia stated with a grin.

"You're very funny." The servant girl said woodenly.  
Remilia grinned wider still.

"I really do like you, Sakuya. Would you please escort me to see this Mr Osborne?"

The sincerity of her request caught the servant girl off guard. Once again, she felt a smile pulling at her mouth.

"Alright," Sakuya said, "As soon as I'm done fixing your face. Honestly, you look like a clown that's been set on fire."

Remilia's devilish giggle warmed her as she continued fixing the little girl's face. After she'd finished her work, she provided a hand mirror from the bag she wore under her arm – which was promptly shoved low and away by Remilia's fingers.  
"I trust you."  
As Sakuya took up the parasol that was offered to her – and listened to Remilia's stringent instructions _not _to let the sun meet her delicate skin – before following her assumed charge out the alleyway into the shadowy smog-hazed London daylight.  
"You've had some experience in this, then?" Remilia asked.

"Hmm?" The servant asked.

"In masking marred beauty." Remilia said, glancing up at her.

The servant's eyes focused on the back of the girl in the lemon dress, her mouth hanging open for a moment. "It is a duty I have performed many times for my mistress."

"Oh!" Remilia made a tiny gasp, "Is _she _beaten?"

"It's wildly improper to gossip, little miss; particularly to the subject's staff." The servant said curtly.

The young noblewoman's shoulders sloped a little.

"You've been very kind to me, Sakuya." The girl noted.

"I am a maid. It is important that I am attentive to the needs of my employer and their guests." The servant's tone evened out.

"And here I am stealing you away from them," Remilia murmured, "and I haven't even told you my name."

"Don't." The servant girl said.

The both of them stopped sharply, Remilia's curious eyes meeting the wary glare of the servant girl.  
"You were so keen to hear my name minutes ago!" She pouted.

The servant girl looked on at her, clearly torn.  
Remilia, with no other information to rely on, turned to her gift, her gaze already registering the fork in her spectral chain of fate. One length of linkage diverted hard away from the course, strong, cold, but intact.  
The other road…  
Remilia cocked her head to one side, a rogue's smile playing beneath her blood red eyes.  
"I am Remilia Scarlet, daughter to Count Vlad Tepes Dracula. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She declared, her chest puffing up a little as she postured.  
The servant sagged a little, defeated.  
"Well!" Remilia grinned up at Sakuya, "Let's see this Mr Osborne's place, and after which, we can go back to the circus and enjoy ourselves!"

The men and women gave the policemen in their dark uniforms and silver buttons a wide berth as they milled outside Mr Osborne's place. Brooms held in the hands of laymen swept the streets clear of broken glass. A small box - the length and width to house a finger - was attached to the doorframe.

"I am to wait outside." Sakuya said as they got closer.

"Why?" Remilia asked as they approached the modest house that stood alone from its neighbours.

"Mr Osborne likes to evaluate his students alone, without parents or guardians interfering."

"A stupid rule, but I will abide. Do not leave without me, Sakuya."  
Sakuya toyed with the notion as Remilia threw the sun above them a wary glance before she disappeared inside.  
She reappeared a minute and a half later, a scowl ruining her young features.

"Well, this was a waste." Remilia said, clearly cross.

"What happened?" Sakuya asked.

"It doesn't matter! You will find me another tutor."

Sakuya's expression bordered on disbelieving. "Surely he offered a reason as to-"

"Let us return to the circus and speak no more of this!" Remilia said, covering her bristling tone with a hurried smile.

* * *

"So you came here on a ship, little miss?" Sakuya tried to correct as she led the girl through the alleyways. She had suggested using the main thoroughfares, but miss Scarlet had stated a preference for the sheltered paths found between the houses and factories.

"No, in a great mansion coloured a shade of blood," Remilia insisted, "Patchy- Patchouli Knowledge, a witch – the best, by the way – brought us here on a tide of magic. Once my business here is concluded, we will sail through time and space to find our home…"  
Sakuya knew she should question and ascertain the truth, but she found herself indulging in the fiction, listening to the motor-mouthed princess.

"Oh, you'd love Meiling! She's someone we picked up from far east, she's very lazy but very funny so we keep her around! Very effable."

"Affable?" Sakuya corrected.

"Yes- isn't that what I said?" Remilia asked.

"It sounds nice." Sakuya said.

Remilia quietened.

"You could teach me." She sounded.

"What?" Sakuya asked flatly.

"Teach me to be a lady!" Remilia chirped as she rounded on the servant.

"I don't-"

"You do, though!" Remilia interrupted, "You know how things are done! Who better to ask than someone who sees such things without worrying about participating?!"

"I have duties, little miss, my master-"

Remilia mock-snored at the protest, "I can _tell _you don't enjoy serving him-"

"It's not my lot to enjoy myself." Sakuya cut back, the phrase throwing a frown onto Remilia's face.  
Remilia retorted by blowing a raspberry. "That's too bad, as we're going back to the circus!"

So they did.  
They watched the animals obey their masters with little protest, balancing on star covered platforms and prostrating themselves for the crowd's amusement. Remilia cooed with amusement, her brow frequently furrowing as she asked question after question to Sakuya.

"Where did all these animals come from?  
What do they eat?  
What do they taste like?"

Sakuya couldn't tell her very much - she was a sheltered child, after all - but Remilia enjoyed her answers, and she found herself enjoying the interactions as well.

Then the knife throwers came out.

"Oho, how dangerous!" Remilia clapped her hands as the ringmaster explained the knife-throwing to them, the assistant going to a wooden barricade with a variety of cards that he held up as targets.  
"I should hope so." Sakuya murmured to herself, her eyes growing half-lidded as she observed the stance, the technique and the posture of the thrower.  
She started to curse under her breath as some of the knives landed poorly. Sometimes the tip wouldn't dig into the wood. Once, the knife went astray, bouncing off of the wooden wall.  
That stray knife…

* * *

_Her fingers had been like rigid claws as she held the pillow to her face._  
_She'd screamed hard into the coarse leather. Hard enough to see spots of blood on the pillow where her mouth had been._  
_The policeman hadn't believed her. He'd been there and outperformed her. Her confession, her truth had been… quashed, by-_  
_She screamed so damn hard as the empty lounge she stood in shuddered and stuttered around her. In her despair, in her rage, she stalked out of the living room to the place with the knives. The kitchen. Of course, the kitchen._  
_She'd kill him. She'd kill them both herself._  
_She seized the first knife she could find, rounding on the pantry door as the scenery twitched as though to right itself. She raised the steel, her wrist snapped…_

* * *

"Sakuya-"  
"_What?_" The servant girl asked harshly.  
Remilia blinked up at her. Some of the audience had turned, alarmed at the tone a maid had used to address her supposed mistress.

"I-I'm sorry, I-"

"Let's outside?" Remilia suggested.

The scarlet mistress held the parasol to herself as she insisted that the maid sit and gather herself.

"I didn't know the knife throwing would upset you." Remilia said.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Too late, you did!" Remilia chuckled, "But it's fine, it's fine! If anything, I should like to know why it upset you."

The servant girl shook her head, again and again as she clenched her teeth.  
"I can't-"

"Boo! You can! Tell me, I won't tell anyone else!" Remilia promised.

"Why-" The servant girl tried to muster the strength to finish her sentence, "I don't think it's proper to-"

"I'm curious, and I'm taking a shine to you.  
Now, tell!" Remilia insisted, "Maybe I can help."  
That made the servant girl laugh a sad and bitter laugh.

"My maid finds something funny!"

Like that, the maid shot to her feet, all expression and emotion fading into grey at the sound of that soft, strong voice. Remilia rounded on the newcomer, forcing a smile onto her face.  
"And who might you be?" Remilia asked as the master approached, the gravel underfoot crunching beneath his shoes.

"I am Edwin Barnes, a pleasure to meet you, miss…"

Remilia didn't so much see as feel the servant girl stir beside her. But the scarlet princess was quicker.

"Remilia Scarlet, daughter to Count Vlad Tepes Dracula." She introduced herself with a curtsy, her eyes never leaving the master.  
He didn't seem to believe her.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss Scarlet." The master said, with a smile that suggested more than just pleasure.

Remilia matched his menace with a toothy grin. "The pleasure is all mine. I must thank you for allowing me to borrow your personnel, I had errands to run – and it would be unseemly for a child of a far-flung country to travel alone, no?"

Despite the energetic circus performers and their fawning, gabbling folk who watched them, Remilia heard the tiny, nigh imperceptible break in the conversation her admission of vulnerability created.

"Ah- well, you are welcome for the loan!" He exclaimed with faint surprise.  
Remilia nodded her head deferentially, though her red eyes never left his face. Her gaze remained on him a moment longer before she turned, gesturing around them.  
"I must say, I've never been to the circus before. Where did these beasts come from, Africa, did he say?"

"I suppose so, yes," The master said dismissively, "I'm sorry, you're not from around here; staying with friends, or-"

"Oh, that's right – no, I've a hotel room to myself. Spacious suite, decent service, _charming_ sunrises." Remilia said, inwardly wincing.

"Oh, that does sound delightful – which hotel? Charming sunrises, I might know the one."

The servant girl shook her head absent-mindedly at the master's shoulder.  
"It's the Jackson Grand Hotel."

Remilia's eyes darted from the master as he began to waffle, reading Sakuya's supressed, distressed expression quickly, "D'oh, it's fortunate to hear an honest opinion Mr Barnes, I was thinking of paying a further week in advance for the room, but perhaps I'll look elsewhere."  
The light in the silver eyes of the servant girl dulled further as Remilia took Barnes' suggested address, a hotel that was closer and more advantageous.  
"It's only a stones throw from my estate, we'd love to have you for dinner, miss Scarlet."

"Yes, I was just thinking the same of you." Remilia Scarlet said tartly, breaking the spell.

The master's expression faltered. The servant girl's eyes reconnected with this innocuous girl with the red eyes, the parasol and a smile that bordered on sinister…  
Then Remilia struck her brow with her open palm, her eyes going skyward. "D'oh! We're not back home in Transylvania! I can make no such offer, honestly, that would be wonderfully kind of you. I wouldn't be imposing?"  
And like that, the conversation resumed. The servant girl's unease lightened a little, tuning out for a time.

"Oh, I was meaning to ask- how much do you pay this girl?" Remilia asked.

"I pay her a decent wage. Eighteen pounds a year."

"Then I shall pay you thirty-six pounds for her."

The master's eyes widened, as did the servant girl's.

"I mean to keep her." Remilia added.

"Why?" The master asked.  
"I have developed a frightfully good rapport with your maid, and I'm famously bad at building such things amongst the common folk. It would save me a lot of trouble. Is forty any better?" Remilia declared.  
The master opened his mouth and closed it again.  
Remilia seemed to catch herself, both hands to her mouth. "I'm- I'm so sorry, it's improper of me to regard her as simple chattel to be bought!  
Sakuya!"

Remilia rounded on the servant girl, grinning widely now, "I will pay you forty pounds a year if you become mine. Right now. This is my offer."

"You think to buy my staff out from under me, in front of me?" The master asked, seemingly amused.

Remilia rounded on him with that dagger filled grin of hers. "Oh come now, _Edwin Barnes_, if her skills match the salary you've given her, she should be easily replaced?  
Or have you been underpaying her?" Remilia gasped as his smile disappeared, "But no matter! I will also pay _you_ sixty pounds for releasing her from your employ on such short notice and without incident, what say you?"  
She saw the master's hands ball into fists in her periphery, his plastic, unpleasantly cordial smile resurfacing. No sane man would reject that kind of money for a lowly maid, and Sakuya would be mad to deny it. Any moment now…

"I'm grateful for the offer, miss Scarlet," The servant girl piped up, "But I am- I am satisfied with my current employer.

The servant girl's decision took the scarlet mistress off guard. The master capitalised, making a show of popping open a splendid silver pocketwatch, one that Remilia noticed caught Sakuya's eye.  
"Well, this has been exciting, miss Scarlet, but I am thinking I should retire- and if you haven't visited the circus, now is certainly the time-"  
"Oh! Before you go, I have a request- no, a condition! I have lessons to complete with a tutor, it should take a week, can I have Sa- your servant girl walk me for that duration? I'm more than happy to compensate you." Remilia said, suddenly all charm and childlike excitement.  
The master's tongue ran along the inside of his teeth as he mustered some self-control.  
"That'll be something to discuss later." He said, tossing her a counterfeit smile before he stalked away.  
The servant girl lingered. "Miss Scarlet-" The servant girl felt Remilia's finger push on her lips.

"We'll meet again, Sakuya," Remilia said emphatically, "Now, go."

Remilia watched her go. She waved as Sakuya threw her a troubled glance before she became the weary servant girl once more.  
As soon as she was alone in the crowd, she frowned. What on earth did this Barnes hold over Sakuya?  
_And why can't I read his fate?_  
Remilia narrowed her eyes. Patchy might know. Hell, Meiling might be able to shed some light, perhaps.

* * *

"I've changed my mind, dear sister."  
The sister glanced over at the master as he stalked on over. "You'd like to see the freak show after all?"  
The master recoiled as though stung, before his words slipped out of his mouth like a blade might leave a scabbard. "No.  
Remilia Scarlet. This- this scion of the Impaler I'll have her."  
The sister nodded, nonplussed, seeing the dead-eyed servant girl at his shoulder. Her gaze slipped back to her dear brother. "Is it wise to change one's mind when it comes to dinner guests-"

"I don't care if it's wise or not, I-" He felt her rush him, his voice snatched away.

"Careful, baby brother," The sister interrupted, a subvocal growl purring under her words as her long nails cradled his cheek, "You mustn't let your temper rule you.  
I'm hungry too."  
The master hesitated, his eyelid flickering as stress warred with self-preservation.

"She knows."

"Scarlet? What does she know?"

"I don't know, but she seemed to – she displayed a keen interest in the bitch!" The master jerked his head to indicate the servant girl.

"Why might she do that, do you suppose?" The sister asked, already in the servant girl's face, her gaze curious and discerning.

The servant girl tried to stand her ground, looking straight ahead.

"I haven't told her anything, my lady. I fear she has simply taken a liking to me." The servant girl said.  
The sister seemed appeased by that, rounding on the master.

"Have your russian dig up what he can on her, to see if she is as protected as she says she is – but do so quickly, so you can hurry up and make a decision."

The master opened his mouth as though to protest being given orders before he thought better of it and left, storming through the blissfully unaware crowd.

"Your face is slipping! Look to it," She called after him, "Now, why do you suppose she likes you?"

The servant girl blinked.

"Why does this miss Scarlet like you?" The sister asked again.

The servant girl knew to hesitate was to be discovered.

"She thinks I am kind." She said, sidestepping how she had comforted her about the De Veres. The servant girl would be used and made to do things, but if she could withhold something that could forestall one girl's fate…  
The sister watched her carefully, studying her.  
Before she gave the servant girl a wan smile.

"And we both know that's not exactly true, is it?  
Why, she hasn't yet seen what you're capable of…"

* * *

**Present Gensokyo**

"You want to know what our servants think of you?" Patchouli asked, no longer the teenage girl Remilia had been confronted by all those years ago.

Remilia's big round eyes stared across the table at her, her mouth a thin, awkward line. She nodded.  
The book in Patchouli's hand slapped shut.  
"What brought this on?" Patchouli asked.

Remilia shrugged with her shoulders, her shoes gently kicking back and forth beneath the table. "I've been negligent in the past." She murmured.

Patchouli smiled. Properly now. "And I was impatient, and rude, in my youth."  
Remilia waved off her words. "It had the desired effect, you're fine." She said.  
Patchouli inclined her head at the pardon before she spoke.  
"I think we should perhaps ask them face to face." Patchouli said, a giggle breaking out of her when Remilia – in a fit of embarrassment – pulled her mob cap over her own face.  
"Don't make me do that, Patchy!"

"Oh, Remi, I can't make you do anything. I can only counsel you – and an employee can only truly know that their contribution is appreciated if-"  
Remilia snarled playfully, her teeth gnawing at the fabric of her hat. "Yesh, I know, if their employer tellsh them."

Patchouli coughed at that, her laughter subsiding.  
"Ahh… for what it's worth…" Patchouli would look up at her hand to see Remilia looking over at her, concerned, "I'm incredibly proud of you, Remi."

Remilia hid once more.  
"Don't, my asthma…" Patchouli grinned, her plea answered with an apologetic Remilia emerging from behind the shield that was her hat.  
"Sorry. Let's do that. Umm."  
"Hmm?" Patchouli asked as she got up from her chair, taking a moment to steady herself. With her health, every exertion was a hefty one.  
"How do you feel about the paintings in the gallery, Patchy?"  
"How do I feel about them?" Patchouli repeated. They were family heirlooms that signified important events, but they'd always been a little gloomy.

"Shall we have some more commissioned?" Remilia asked, glancing up at her as they walked.

Patchouli smiled down at Remilia as they approached the library's doors.  
"It must be kismet. You're not the only one who's made that suggestion." She said with a voice that brimmed with warmth.  
"Though, the tengu do have their instantaneous capturing devices..."

**Author's note: Any constructive crit/reviews/kind words will always be appreciated. Happy holidays!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Before Gensokyo**

The dark clouds had spread across the moonlit sky like coils of ink opening in water.  
Hong Meiling walked the perimeter of the mansion, the dirty moonlight painting her green dress blue. It was an unnecessary patrol - she could instantly sense malign intent at a hundred meters – but it gave her body something to do, something to distract herself from her thoughts.  
She was loyal to Remilia, she was. The mistress of the night had beaten her handily, and whilst that would have been enough to win over the Chinese girl's loyalty, Remilia had deigned to help her. She would never stop being grateful.  
But the energy that generated from the household these days was toxic. It agitated her. It angered her. She tried to ignore them. The doubts and suggestions that appeared in her head. The poisonous mood that radiated off of the house put her off from completing her tai chi routine, and it ruined the execution of her duties. She didn't pacify invaders these days, she battered them. She didn't neutralise them, she vented on them. Gone was her grace and precision, replaced with the muddy rage that had held her hostage during the bad old days.  
She would not run. She told herself that, more often than ever.  
As she told herself that just then, she felt a presence leave the mansion's doors. The most familiar one. She rushed to reach the black iron gate, for fear of reproach.  
Initially, she thought to be nonchalant and distant; anything else would be met with impatient scorn.

Then she read the aura again and saw the brittleness there.  
"Miss Scarlet?" She asked.

Remilia made a noise of surprise, turning her head. There was a suitcase in one of her hands.  
"Gatekeeper." She sniffled.

Meiling saw how she kept her face turned, so as to hide the tears in one of her eyes. It was a childish impulse. Remilia knew that she knew.

"What's wrong?" Meiling asked.

"Everything, apparently." Remilia managed, her bottom lip quivering.

The cold silence held for all of a second before Meiling gestured her over.

"C'mere." Meiling said gentle. It would be one of the rare instances where she'd give an order to her mistress.  
Remilia let the suitcase lie where it was, crossing the flagstones to bury herself in Meiling's embrace.  
Gone was the aspect of the moody, brooding mistress of the mansion, revealing the crushed and lonely girl that had only tried to protect them all. The scarlet devil's hands were like claws, her subdued sobbing making the gatekeeper's heart melt.

"Patchy's s-scared of me, and F-Flan said she hates me after- after I said I was leaving, I only," There was a hiccup, "I only wanted to keep them safe," She wanted to go on, but the words disappeared into Meiling's green sleeve.  
"It's alright. It's okay." Meiling whispered soothingly. She kept saying it until things calmed down, and the two of them sat on the cold flagstones with their backs to the black bars of the gate.

Remilia told her everything. She told Meiling how the mansion was running out of magic, how Patchy grew weaker with the strain, how Flan scared her, how she worried daily about the remnants of the Impaler's court finding them and bringing their politics and war with them. She told Meiling how she harangued herself for driving on when they could have stopped, for passing on Valhalla, Avalon, the Neverlands, a score of fantastic places that she had found petty issue with.  
And when they had found the perfect place – a paradise in the east - she had rubbed its caretaker wrong.

"So you and miss Patchouli brought us here to train?" Meiling said.

Remilia breathed out until her lungs were emptied. Her upset had stolen her energy. "To regroup, maybe that's the better term." She managed.

"I see." Meiling murmured, casting her senses back over the house.

She could feel the others. Patchouli and Koakuma were in the library, relieved but drained. Flandre in the basement… for once, the anger was gone, replaced instead with a deep sadness.

"Patchy is probably figuring out to get us underway again, and I'm to learn how to comport myself." Remilia explained.

"So how can I help, mistress?" Meiling asked.

Remilia turned to look at the gatekeeper. "Huh?"

"How can I help?" Meiling repeated. "I'm your servant, one that you beat fair and square, remember? I could escort you to the place you plan to stay, or I could find some things for miss Patchouli? Some ingredients for her cauldron? She has one of those, right?"

"What brought this on?" Remilia asked.

Meiling gave her another one of her blithe smiles. "Why, I thought I was clear enough, mistress – I'm your-"

"Yes, yes, you said as much, but why? Why do you want to help me now?" Remilia asked, not unkindly.  
Meiling had come to miss that inquisitive tone.

"Honestly?" Meiling asked.

"Mmm." Remilia sounded.

"You're really cool when you get serious." Even in the murky half-light, Remilia could tell Meiling was blushing. Meiling grinned at her own phrasing, continuing even as it coaxed an embarrassed giggle out of the scarlet devil, "No, really! I was happy to lose our duel, our quest for the gungnir was my favourite adventure, and Patchy- d'I mean, miss Patchouli," She pushed through her flustering as Remilia waved her on, "She's a little quiet, but she's nice to be around, and her winged friend too!"  
Remilia's shoulders sagged a little, her glamoured wings invisibly brushing on the cold bars. "It's kind of you to say that-"

"What's more, you're a fluffball." Meiling added.

For a second, Remilia searched for offense meant, but Meiling's guileless smile put her at ease.

"Explain?" Remilia said primly.

"You care. A lot. S'why I lost to you in the first place." Meiling said.

"How do you mean? Did- did you _let _me win?" Remilia asked, mockingly haughty.

"Ahaha, no- well, yes, but! I would've lost, anyway," Meiling admitted, before going on, "Oh, and! You helped me. When I was… rargh." She raised her hands to imitate claws.

"Yeah." Remilia sighed.

"And you worry about Miss Flandre, and you don't go on rampages for power or riches like those bumpkins back in Translyvania. You're balanced in your wants, and noble in them too! You just want a house you can call a home, and you don't even want it for yourself, you want it for _them._"  
Meiling banged her head dully against the bars. The mansion looming beyond.

Remilia nodded.

"You're not alone, miss. Say the word, and I'll come running." Meiling said tenderly.

When she saw the smile that tugged at her mistress' mouth, the gatekeeper knew she had to finish strong.  
So she shot to her feet. "So! If Remilia Scarlet, mistress of the Scarlet Devil Mansion has orders, Hong Meiling, the Rainbow Gatekeeper will do her bit!" She exclaimed and struck a pose that only the goofiest resident of the mansion could pull off.

She heard a happy little sigh behind her. "Thanks." Remilia said, a weary smirk conquering her child-like face.  
Meiling grinned as she turned to face her mistress, expectant.  
Remilia breathed in and out again, her easy confidence returning. "For now, make yourself available to Patchouli and Flandre. I will need you to soothe their worries and keep them safe."

Meiling's smile grew fierce at the command, her fist and palm smacking together in a salute. "You have my solemn vow, not one intruder gets by."

Remilia shook her head with a chuckle. After Patchouli's frigid ultimatum and Flandre's hateful parting words, she felt blessed that it'd be Meiling's words she'd carry into the night.  
Meiling snorted noisily as her tremendous stores of empathy got the better of her, clumsily rubbing at her own eyes.

"Hey! No crying." Remilia admonished, pretending to be serious.

"No ma'am, just grit in my eye, sorry!" Meiling's hands flew down to her sides, her eyes shining as she stood easy before the vampire mistress.

* * *

**London, Day One**

"Read all about it! The ripper returned, or just another copycat?! Another girl found cold in Whitechapel!" The man had a hand held to the side of his mouth as he shouted to the comers and goers outside Blind Beggar pub, his eyes lacklustre as the masses passed beneath him.

"I will take one!" A pale hand thrusted up in front of him. Startled, he looked down to see a girl who could be no older than ten staring up at him.  
She wore an olive dress, her hair a surprising azure blue, and crimson red eyes that took his breath away.

"E-eight pence, miss."

Remilia nodded and the man selling newspapers felt a strange relief when her gaze left him. She turned to regard the pretty maid in the dull black dress at her shoulder.  
Sakuya already had the money out and in hand. Remilia whispered a 'thank you' to Sakuya and threw her a smile before she paid the man for the paper. The maid was surprised how good it felt.  
It didn't make her duty any easier, however.  
'Find out what you can about this Remilia. Find out who she meets, who she travels with, who knows her and what she cares for.  
If my brother insists on taking her, it will be done expertly, and it will be done quietly.'

"Sakuya, the parasol?" Remilia asked.

Prompted back into the moment, Sakuya straightened and gave miss Remilia her shade.

"Something's on your mind." Remilia said, handing her the newspaper as they walked.

"My apologies. I will not be so distracted again." Sakuya replied.

"Not good enough," Remilia decided, "Tell me – here, penny for your thoughts. That's the expression, is it not?"

Sakuya shook her head at the proffered handful of change. "I was distracted, as you said. It shan't happen again."

Remilia frowned up at her. It was testament to Sakuya's world view that she'd expected some hateful insult or a haughty dismissal.

"Well, if you're not distracted, I suppose I could tell you what I'm thinking about," Remilia said, "Did you have parents, Sakuya?"

Sakuya blinked at the question, the crowd filling the gap in conversation with the dull roar of city life. "Why, of course."

"What are they like?" Remilia asked. _I don't recall my own._

Sakuya thought about it. It had been such a long time ago. "They raised me as best they could. You're familiar with workhouses?"

Remilia shook her head, turning away to begin her walk away from the public house. Sakuya followed her as she went on, "Well, a workhouse is a place where those families without the means to support themselves can live."

"What is it like?" Remilia asked as they moved through the river of weary men and women that moved to and from the tavern.

"It was something like a prison. Food was rationed, and children were expected to work." Sakuya remembered fondly how her father had given her his share of the food.

"What kind of work?" Remilia asked.

"Breaking bones for fertilizer, stones for roads…"

"When's the last you've seen them?"

Sakuya furrowed her brow as she felt something tender well within herself.  
"A year and a half. I received notices that they'd died five months ago. Within two days of each other." Sakuya said, volunteering the fact of their demise so as to dissuade the girl from the subject.

"So why are you here and not in the workhouse?"

Sakuya sighed, recalling the look on her father's delighted face when he'd told her the good news. The way her mother had cried – happy tears though they'd been – had frightened her.  
"My father had made a friend during a job; someone who volunteered to take me in and find me a job as a maid."

"How did that go?" Remilia asked, glancing back to read Sakuya's expression.

Sakuya smiled back. "Mister Osborne took me in. It was a bumpy start, but he became like a second father to me."

Remilia's eyes widened a fraction, her mouth opening. "Damn."

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Sakuya chuckled, "The same Mister Osborne you met."  
"He's a mean old man! A mean old man!" Remilia repeated hotly.

"He's troubled and possesses lofty standards, certainly, but I owe him for what little joy that I was afforded during my upbringing," Sakuya explained, "I am sorry that you got on the wrong side of him."

"Well, it's not my fault – as you said, he's a prideful piece of work!" Remilia cursed.

"If I may be so bold, my lady…" Sakuya began.

"Oho! Am I your lady now?" Remilia asked, shooting her a grin, before she gestured at Sakuya to continue.

"Were you particularly… humble, in your dealings with him?" Sakuya asked.

Remilia froze, her walk stopping as she looked back at Sakuya with a scowl. For an instant, Sakuya feared that she had gone too far.

"No." Remilia admitted, "I'd thought I'd needed to impress him."

"There's every possibility that you asserted – inadvertently, I must stress – that you were, in some way, better than him."

Remilia was simply stunned.  
"But I am, though." The scarlet devil insisted.

Sakuya stared back down at her.  
"Oh, dear." She sighed, despite herself.

* * *

Sergei kept them in sight, but only just.  
The burden was growing, God love her. God love them both.  
He adjusted his flatcap so it covered the top of his soft, sloe-eyed face.  
_This is miss Remilia Scarlet.__  
_"Da.." He muttered, seemingly to no one. He saw Remilia look round and up at the master's servant girl, the affronted pout making him grin.

_She is an affront to God. Like the maid that still lives, she still lives, why does she still live…_

His smile faltered.  
"I do not doubt you, o' angel – but may I ask how? She does not look it –the last two girls did not look very evil, either." His voice was thick with a smooth Russian accent and a smoker's depth.

_Evil does not parade itself upon the face of the world; it lives in secret, plants its roots and only when it is ready will it bear its ungodly fruit for all the world to suffer._

The Russian nodded, hunching forward as he walked.

"Ach, but what rotten fruit did sweet Rosie bear towards anyone? She seemed to me to be nice girl, from beginning to end." Sergei admitted.  
As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt his shoulders hunch as the weight doubled.

_A truly committed heretic. She clung to her façade of innocence to her death to shake you! Do you not know she would have murdered five men five years from now, had you let her live? My sword, my protector…_

The Russian huffed as he walked the cobbles, keeping his eyes on his quarry. He saw Remilia wave a gloved hand dismissively at the master's servant girl.  
"Ah. Yes, of course. I forgot that." He managed.

_I know you did, _the creature hissed in his ear as she crawled up his back, _and that is why God sent me to watch over you, to guide those hands, those wicked hands of yours towards a righteous mission! You need me, and I need you, Sergei, sword of God, servant of God._

Sergei sighed happily at that.

"I am not worthy, I do not think." He said good-naturedly, feeling the weight lessen by a fraction. On that humble sentiment, parasite and host together stalked the scarlet mistress into the moneyed side of Whitechapel district.

* * *

It was easy to tell that they were walking into the richer areas.  
The cobbles and pavements were cleaner, the traffic better dressed and sparser, with the only commoners present here to maintain the property of their betters. Most men were at work, most women at home, though those few that were present on the street were well dressed for wherever their errands took them, and often chose to ride in sleek, black, horse-drawn carriages that rolled over the cobbles. The houses here were impressive affairs; whilst most buildings further into London were squat, windowed blocks packed with multiple dwellings, each house here - with their sun-scorched bricks and dull-grey roofing tiles - could breathe. They had spacious gardens, wrought iron fences, lush greenery, trees bristling with leaves dotted the side of the road.

One house amongst them made them look squalid by comparison. The difference was so stark, it had drawn something of a crowd.  
Sakuya's brow furrowed as Remilia began to hurry. She parted the crowd quickly, the men and women who obstructed her crying out at the forcefulness, set to protest outrageously until they saw it was a small girl pushing them aside.  
The loaned servant girl hurried along, keeping her mistress shaded.  
Past the barrier of ogling onlookers, she saw it. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened.  
It was more akin to a castle than a house.  
A scarlet castle.  
It had a perimeter wall painted a warm deep-rose, a black-iron gate at least twelve feet tall, a grandiose clock tower, a tiered column of apartments with dressed windows that stood behind the east wing.  
_When had the city informed the public that they'd build this?! Had it always been here? Surely not! __The style was grandiose - gothic, even - entirely unlike the rest of the neighbourhood, entirely out of time._

"I don't understand." Sakuya managed.

"Sakuya, the parasol!" Remilia shouted.

"Yes miss!" Sakuya jumped, following her as her mistress approached the gatekeeper.  
The gatekeeper… Now, _she_ stood out. A red haired girl in a green beret and matching dress that Sakuya had only seen in story books about adventures in the Orient.  
She'd been speaking deferentially to a portly, red faced man before she caught sight of Remilia.  
Her face lit up.

"Miss Remilia, good morning!" She shouted, waved hard.

"You know her?" Sakuya asked.

Remilia turned around to look up at Sakuya with a devilish grin.

"Of course – why, she guards my estate." Remilia said coolly.

Sakuya didn't even try to recover. She was stunned. She'd lived in London for a very long time, done her master's bidding on these streets. How had she never noticed this scarlet mansion?

"Your face is priceless, Sakuya. Would you like to meet your workmate?"

"Eh?" Sakuya managed.

"It's so good to see you, Miss Remilia! Have you done- Oh!" The girl's almond-shaped eyes diverted when Remilia shot her a look, going over to Sakuya, "Hello there! I've…"

Once more, the gatekeeper paused, but it was different. This hesitation wasn't borne from awkward impudence.  
Sakuya didn't know why. Was her surprise so unsightly? She hurried to compose herself.

"Sakuya, this is Hong Meiling. The mansion's gatekeeper."

Hong Meiling bowed her head. When it rose again, The Chinese girl wore a smile so kind and sincere that it disarmed the maid entirely.

"I am deeply honoured to meet someone entrusted with my lady's life," Hong Meiling beamed, "I look forward to working with you, Sakuya, was it?"

Sakuya knew she should have protested. Her employment wasn't so simple, her name wasn't Sakuya, she wasn't supposed to be here, enjoying this. She felt pulled in two different directions. She felt her breath come in shallow gulps, knowing in her bones this was wrong, this was wrong-

"Hey?" Meiling caught her attention.

Sakuya watched as her off-hand was taken up in the gatekeeper's strong fingers. She almost backed away, surprised by the familiarity.

"However long you're staying, I hope we can be friends." Meiling hit her with another one of those easy-going smiles of hers.  
The servant girl could feel the anxiety abate at the mere sight of that glowing smile.

"I'd... I'd like that very much." Sakuya smiled breathlessly, feeling the edgy nervousness wash away.  
Meiling grinned all the wider for that.

"Is Patchouli in?" Remilia asked, as though bored.  
Meiling's chin swivelled to regard her mistress, even as she continued to clasp Sakuya's hand.

"She is! Ahhh. I have to ask." The corners of Meiling's mouth pulled apart a little more.

"No, you don't." Remilia said.

"I do." Meiling said sadly.

"I'm your mistress, let me in." Remilia said hurriedly.

"Have you found a tutor suitable to teach you the rules of social etiquette practiced here?" Meiling said miserably.  
Sakuya saw Remilia's sulking face.

"Miss Remilia, I could have sworn you said to me that you were going to educate yourself here, that we might-"

"Yes, yes!" Remilia snapped.

Meiling visibly winced. "Then, what happened? Was there a set-back?"

"How can you tell?" Remilia asked with a voice laden with sarcasm.

Meiling's voice turned condescending, though she didn't mean to. "Oh mistress, with my ability to read-"

"I know, I _know,_ I _know_ of someone who can help me but he refuses to!" Remilia said in a rush.

"Oh, well that's no good! Tell me, where is he? We will speak to him together!" Meiling declared.

"That isn't happening. He's made his decision!" Remilia sighed, waving at Meiling to move aside.

"Then what are we to do?" Meiling asked, sounding beleaguered.

"Will you move?" Remilia asked, her fingers probing her own temple in exasperation.

"As soon as I have this man's address, rest assured, I will let you-"

"Umm." Sakuya finally piped up.

"Would you hold this, miss Scarlet?" She asked as she offered the parasol, her voice brimming with energy.

Remilia looked at Sakuya as though she was mad. Meiling's expression… Sakuya would never forget the pitiable, puppy-dog look on the gatekeeper's face.  
The scarlet mistress took the parasol, looking as though she might use it as a cudgel.

"I will return soon with written proof that miss Scarlet has secured lessons with Mister Osborne." Sakuya told them.

"What- no you will not! Sakuya!" Remilia gasped, then shouted after her as the maid ran down the street.

The scarlet mistress and the gatekeeper watched her go, the both of them flummoxed by the maid's sudden inspiration.  
"So what was that handholding about?" Remilia asked, her attention back on the Chinese girl. The humans began to disperse, none of them daring to approach Remilia and ask obvious questions about the scarlet castle suddenly in their midst.

Meiling looked troubled.

"Tell me what you saw in her? Meiling." Remilia said, gentler but still firm.

"She's in turmoil." Meiling said simply.

"Turmoil?" The mistress echoed.

"A turmoil I'm struggling to tease apart." Meiling decided with a grim expression, "She's like… a ship fresh from the storm. You've been at sea, Miss Remilia?"

"Once." Remilia said. _And I'll be damned if I ever go out on the water again, _she thought.

"She looks like she's under a lot of stress. The wood is splitting, cracking under the pressure."

Remilia's mouth thinned. "What's causing this pressure?"

"Something bad." Meiling said.

Remilia opened her mouth to unleash a sarcastic barb, but the troubled expression on Meiling's face stopped her.

"The ship analogy is an apt one," Remilia announced as she rolled the parasol's arm on her shoulder, "These humans are naught but ships, and I am the river. They will abide or be run aground, and have their secrets laid bare."

Meiling forced out a chuckle. "With you at the helm, I don't doubt that!"

Remilia threw her a sidelong smirk, gladdened that she could steady the gatekeeper's nerves.

"Why are we having this conversation, miss Remilia?" Meiling asked.

"Hmm?"

"About the human girl. She's small, frail… she seems like she might fall over dead at any moment. I think she's nice, but…" Meiling left the question unanswered. She had recalled Remilia saying some uncharitable things about the very species she'd once belonged to.  
Meiling couldn't blame her, but such cold words had put her off entering the Scarlet Devil Mansion for a few days.

She watched her mistress as the young girl clearly mulled over the question, her red eyes staring at her feet.

"She was nice to me when no-one else was. One good turn deserves another, and all that." Remilia decided.

"Hmm," Meiling smiled at those words, "I think you've got good taste. I can tell she's a good person.

As are you, miss." Meiling hurried those last words out in a hushed voice.

Remilia thought to respond sarcastically, teasingly, or just take the praise in stride. But it had been a stressful few days, and…

"I'm thankful I found you when I did, Hong Meiling." Remilia admitted.

Another silence. One that grew awkward.  
She turned and realised Meiling was beaming at her with a misty-eyed smile.  
Remilia panicked when the gatekeeper advanced with her arms flying open.

"Not in front of people!" Remilia protested, raising her sharp fingers to defend herself.  
Meiling's embrace never came. Instead, she perked up like a meerkat, staring down the road Sakuya had vanished from.

"Is she making good time?" Remilia asked.

"I…  
I don't know." Meiling trailed off.

* * *

Sakuya ran awkwardly, one hand holding up the black hem of her maid's dress so she could cover the distance more quickly. There was no concern for being spotted by the population; even if they had, they'd only see a flicker, an afterimage of her surfacing before she dove back through the stuttering still images that she could capture and hold in place.  
As she caught her breath five minutes into the journey, she contemplated her visibility. She thought of her master, of how he had used this power. The pictures all around Sakuya shivered, stirring.  
With a stab of concentration, she shuffled the fearful faces of his victims to the back of her mind. She focused on the now. To mister Osborne's.

When she saw the door ajar and heard him roaring, she hurried inside the house that had once been home. She seized a walking cane from the stand that stood by the door. She drew the hidden sword stick within, hovering in the doorway to Mister Osborne's dining room.  
"Oh, help me up, will you?!" Mister Osborne shouted at her.

Sakuya paused a moment longer. Satisfied that there were no apparent intruders, she went to help him up.  
"Tea?" She asked him.

"Yes, blast you."

Sakuya endured the snapping and the snarling as she prepared green tea – she had weathered so much worse from rougher sorts, after all. As soon as the faded cup was in his hands, the hostility evaporated from his wizened face.  
"Thank you, sweetheart." He whispered, his hooded eyes turning kind behind his gold rimmed oval glasses.  
Sakuya smiled as she sat herself down opposite him, his hooded eyes going from drink to her and back again as he drank deep.

"Ahhh, horrid stuff," He managed, a single cough bursting through his talk, "but made sweeter by the hands that poured it."

"Not by much, though," Sakuya said as she sat there, attentive, almost eager, "How's the leg?"

"Oh, feels as though a bullet went through it a few years ago." Mister Osborne muttered.

"A very specific description there; the consequence of being a brave old fool, I daresay?" Sakuya grinned.  
She could see that his hackles rose, but at the last moment he smiled reluctantly.

"Well, I am a fool, no mistaking that." He tutted, shaking his head.

"You sell yourself short, mister Osborne." Sakuya replied smoothly.

"Mmhmm. So what's got you here then? It can't have been just to see me, you were in something of a state." He prompted.

Sakuya paused, thinking how best to tackle this. With Jared Osborne, she opted for honesty. Any other approach he would see through and disapprove of viciously.  
Besides, she owed him that little.  
"You met with a Remilia Scarlet yesterday-"

"No. Absolutely not." Mister Osborne murmured, shaking his head with some feeling.

Sakuya's shoulders sagged. "Please, would you let me finish?" She asked.

"I won't entertain the prospect of tutoring her, girl. Far too much wrong with her, and I won't have my hand forced on this. You know my policy." Mister Osborne said.

"Well, what's wrong with her?" Sakuya asked, forgetting herself.

Mister Osborne's expression turned cold. "She's a liar and a braggart. Worse, she was arrogant enough to believe whatever slight she dealt me could be remedied by throwing money in my face. I won't tolerate it, I _won't!_" His voice had risen.

Sakuya wavered. Once upon a time, she had been in decent enough health to weather mister Osborne's prideful temper, but-  
No, she had to do this.

"You and I are agreed that those traits are reprehensible, so let us take her to task, together!  
Tell me, what did she lie about?" Sakuya asked.

"Daughter of Vlad Tepes Dracula… why, he's been cold for five hundred years odd." Mister Osborne sneered.

"Then let us ask her why she lied!"

"Pah. What for? Likely some compulsion or some brattish tendency. Look, it doesn't matter, my mind is made up!"

"Why!?" Sakuya almost shouted the word.

Mister Osborne was shocked. So was Sakuya. She knew she had to press on.  
"Please, help her! Your intervention could be worth more than you know!" Sakuya said.

"I know the worth of my tutelage, girl – God love you, it seems I've failed you as a teacher, given by the way you've stormed here unaccompanied, making demands of me on how I run my business, raising your voice-"

"Her _life _is at stake, Jared!" Sakuya fired back across the table.

Mister Osborne leaned back, his hard eyes looking on at Sakuya. "The devil do you mean?"

Sakuya held his gaze, knowing she was on the edge of telling him everything, e_verything_ that had happened since she'd left his roof.  
"Girl, tell me what you mean, what you meant by that."

Sakuya felt a twitch touch her right eye. _To tell him the truth would endanger him._  
"God…" Sakuya sighed, her breathing jumping. She did not want to fail Remilia. She did not want to go back with nothing. She did not want to see Remilia die. If she met with Mister Osborne and concluded her business quickly, this foreign princess might leave England alive. Had she always been so compassionate?  
She told herself it was her guilty conscience seeking some sort of redemption.

The servant girl's fingers gripped the table edge.

"…Are _you_ in danger, girl?" Mister Osborne asked, his severe eyes glowering at her from behind his glasses.

Sakuya laughed breathlessly at that. "Please, with the skills you've armed me with?" She managed.

"Good God, you are. This Remilia brat, is she strong-arming you?" He asked.

She shook her head, numb. "No, I'd say she's the one who thinks she can save me."

"Save you from whom?" Mister Osborne asked, agitated.

The servant girl declined to answer for a time. Then she tried to answer, until Mister Osborne could hear her teeth chatter and see her chest heave with the effort.

"God in heaven – I'll- I'll give her one, _one_ last chance! It's done, easy now, easy... I'll- we'll discuss finances on the day, I'm sure she can match my prices.  
Just look after yourself, won't you?" He asked, his manner turning soft, only letting the servant girl leave with his written word when he was convinced that she was steady on her feet.

"One last thing…" Sakuya managed.

Mister Osborne waited, his irritated scowl still betraying a hint of concern.

* * *

When Sakuya returned to the mansion with a slip of signed paper in hand, the Chinese girl remained, but Remilia was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh, she went on inside. You can go on in." Meiling said as she stared straight ahead with a strangely forceful cheeriness.

Sakuya hesitated for a moment, following the gatekeeper's gaze.  
That's when she saw Sergei, and her heart stopped.

"Miss Sakuya, the mistress is waiting!" Meiling insisted over her shoulder. Sakuya obeyed, hurrying behind the gate as it was closed behind her, wanting to cry out when Meiling turned her back on Sergei. _It didn't matter if it was broad daylight, if there were other people around…!_  
Meiling's expression was serene as she stared back into Sakuya's face from between the bars.

"Go." She commanded. Sakuya hurried up the gravelled path that led to the Scarlet Mansion's doors, intent on fetching help as Meiling turned to regard the stranger.  
Meiling's eyes landed on the Russian and never left him. He stood on the opposite pavement, wisps of cigarette smoke snaking from his nostrils. In shabby clothes and with slumped shoulders, he didn't look like much.  
But then, Meiling supposed that was the point. Everyone else on the street were simple enough to look at. Some were in good health, others were dying. They were human, with their mortal wants, with their fragile conditions, moods and ailments.  
The man in front of Meiling, though… his aura was cold. Febrile. Necrotic. Depleted, and all the hungrier for it.

"Hello, sir." She volunteered with a grin, her almond eyes watching him.

The man smiled a loveless smile. "Zdravstvuyte, hello, miss." He said, a cigarette jutting between his fingers.

"Are you sick? You look pale." Meiling said.

"As pale as the girl in there?" Sergei suggested.

Meiling's smile faded a little. "I don't believe you have an appointment." She stated.

"Nyet, no," Sergei simpered, "It is a pity, too, with the services I offer."

"What is it you do?" Meiling asked.

"I… help the sick. The troubled. Find them relief." The handsome russian rolled the words over in his mouth before letting them tumble out.

"Ahh, that's sweet of you! Like acupuncture? Or do you talk them through their worries?" Meiling folded her arms.

"I excise demons, that…" He trailed off as he started to toy with his ear. He stood a little straighter now as he took a drag on the cigarette.

"Exorcise?" Meiling chanced, seeing how his aura suddenly strengthened – no, it grew more powerful but it became more unstable. Confused. Violent.

"No, no, to remove demon, not to _please be quiet._" His voice dropped into an acidic drip of a whisper, glancing sidelong at nothing as he crushed the cigarette between his fingers.

The hostile aura intensified.

"Back down, please.  
There are no demons here you can remove." Meiling promised, her voice all good humour as she felt the situation escalate.

There it was. The tension in his leading leg. The sudden shift in his weight. The feral snarl lurking beneath the Russian man's docile smile as his other hand stayed low at his side. So many red flags that Meiling could see and sense and feel.  
She was the target. That was good; none of the humans nearby were in danger.  
It would be fast. She determined that he was armed with a blade – the lack of stress he planned in his striking forearm told her it was something that required little pressure to do incredible damage.  
It would be brutal. He had no intention in forcing entry, or mugging her – why would he? The signals she received from him, the body language, the economy of energy… all of it told her that he meant to kill her.

Meiling blew a steady exhale through her mouth, her focus all for him as his discarded cigarette bounced off the cobbles.

The few humans that had stuck around cried out in astonishment as the Russian started forward.

* * *

**Present Gensokyo**

As Remilia and Patchouli entered the vestibule, they saw the pair of fairy maids that were staring out through a crack in the great front door, the sunlight painting a bar over their black and white uniforms.  
"I wonder why they're fighting." One fairy said, unaware of their company.

"Hoshiguma and Meiling? Who knows?" The other said.

"Who do you think'll win?" The first fairy asked.

"The oni, easily. Meiling isn't that strong." The other fairy said, nodding hard.

"You seem _awfully_ sure." Remilia's sharp words threw a panic into the fairies, rounding on their mistress in a flurry before training took over and they affected a salute.

"Did this 'Hoshiguma' threaten my personage, or that of my sister?" Remilia asked.

"W-we don't believe so, mistress." The first fairy volunteered.

"And they haven't broken the spell card rules?" Patchouli hovered close with a tome in hand, her half-lidded eyes staring the fairies down.

"N-no!" The second fairy stammered out, withering under the discerning gaze of the librarian.

"Hmm. There's every chance Hoshiguma could win." Patchouli admitted.

Remilia glanced sidelong at her, the barest hint of an appreciative smile on his face.  
"During this peace? Certainly. Though if anyone made a dedicated attempt on my life or that of my sister's, Meiling would quash them."

"As always, our mistress speaks the truth." A shadow up in the galleries announced.  
The fairy maids began to sweat bullets as Patchouli and Remilia glanced up at the head maid who kept to the shadows. "If we were under siege, I'd rely on Meiling before I would a hundred oni." Sakuya added, her statement lacking any of the play you might find in Remilia's remarks.

One of the fairies gulped audibly beneath Sakuya's silvery stare.

"Luckily," Sakuya smiled without enthusiasm, "We aren't under siege. What are-"

"What are your duties?" Remilia interjected, earning a startled glance from Sakuya.

The fairy maids looked to Remilia, then to the exasperated Sakuya, then back to Remilia.

"Well, here's a new one! Go and pour miss Hoshiguma a drink. We'll invite her – she can be Meiling's plus one!" Remilia clapped her hands, pleased with her solution.

"Now set to!" Remilia snapped. The fairies bustled past her, rattling apologies off of their tongues as they went.

Remilia imagined that their words about Meiling's reliability would trickle down into the ranks. Since their Scarlet Mist Incident, the fairies had started to doubt her, even started to ridicule Meiling's ability to perform her duties.  
Remilia hoped this would put things right.

Once they were gone, Sakuya pouted as she approached the bannister. As ever, she looked handsome and pristine in her white and midnight-blue French maid's outfit. "There's a rota for a reason, mistress." She huffed.

Patchouli hid her smirk behind her book as Remilia rolled her eyes in exasperation. When there were guests or staff around to see them, those two were the scarlet devil and her faithful hound, poised, elegant and all the rest. But when upper management was alone, the masks would slip.

"You are more than welcome to seize back control of your maids when the clock strikes midnight, but for today, please, go and get ready to receive your guests!" Remilia shooed her.

Sakuya's chest rose and fell with a sigh, clearly unhappy with the order. But she obeyed, bowing modestly to the both of them before striding, almost out of sight.  
"We made sure to invite the Hakurei, and the half-ghost as well!" Remilia shouted after her.

Sakuya paused in her footsteps, before going on.

"And Reisen?" Sakuya reappeared at the gallery's bannister.

Remilia playfully tilted her head. "Of course. I'm not going to risk insulting the lunarian or her people."

She could hear Patchouli scoff quietly behind her book, but Remilia kept her eyes on Sakuya.

She saw the spark in the head maid's eyes, and watched as she left the gallery more quickly now.

"You'd _thrill_ at the chance to put Kaguya in her place." Patchouli murmured.

"You. Freeloader. You'll be holding my parasol for the duration." Remilia replied archly as they prepared to go outside.

**Author's Note: Man, I wish I planned stories out more before committing. Any constructive crit/reviews/encouragement always welcome, as ever, and I hope you're enjoying the story so far!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Transylvania, Before Gensokyo**

Remilia did not baulk from killing, not when it was necessary.  
On many occasions, she had met their antagonists head on. The ferals that stalked the land, the fearful humans that sought to purge her kind, rival vampires that fought for or against the Impaler.  
All of them had ignored her warnings. All of them had endangered her sister's wellbeing.

The human's sobbing wails brought Remilia back into the moment. Into the darkling chapel of Bran Castle, before a pallid congregation of undead boyars and their deathless women, the Impaler's successor indulged in his pantomime as he held the dagger and chalice over the altar and the struggling man who lay bound upon it.  
"The blood of Christ." Mihnea whispered, his words made apical and rushed by his rows of needle teeth. He was bald, and his eyes were hidden somewhere in the shadowy caverns of his skull.  
The boyars and the ladies repeated the words in hushed, excited tones as the human's wailing took on a fresh animal frenzy.  
The human looked straight at Remilia, pleading, weeping.  
Remilia Scarlet had survived the nightmare fields of Transylvania. She had lived through her transformation and guided her sister. She had fought the armies of Wallachia, the Ottomans, the undead and the crusades from all sides.  
And only then, when she saw the hopeless panic in the man's eyes – and the way his tormentor, her liege, doted on him - did she feel the first stirrings of despair.  
Mihnea cel Rau's dagger plunged down into the man's gullet, causing his eyes to widen. The body convulsed. the scream turned into a blood gurgling gasp.  
And then he was still.  
Noises of distaste and audible gasps caught Remilia's attention. For a moment, she thought she had allies here who shared her dismay.

"The blood…" One undead boyar murmured, and that hope was dashed.  
They objected at the spilling and not much else. Her eyes returned to the body, seeing the enthralling trickle of blood stain the altar's white cloth. For a moment, she was lost to it.  
Mihnea's chuckle broke the spell. Remilia's red eyes met Mihnea's empty, pitiless sockets. He was smiling down at her.  
Remilia stared him down, despite the allure of the blood. Until his gaze lifted to encompass the rest of their peers.  
With a bow of his head, the rest of the room rose to its feet, and flocked hurriedly to the body at his feet. Like crows, they crowded it, their fanged mouths snapping down, claws tearing.  
"The body of Christ." Mihnea rasped, as though remembering an old axiom, one that had once meant something.  
Remilia turned her back on the assembly and left the chapel before the rending began.

* * *

In the great hall, the reason for her summons was made clearer.

"You are looking well, miss Scarlet."  
Ruxandra was lucky in that she was free of a familial resemblance, neither sharing her father's baldness nor his speech impediment. Her cheekbones were prominent, her jawline was strong, her features fair. Her eyes sparkled and her hair was black and silky.  
Remilia smiled carefully as she regarded the woman who now languished on the throne.

"As do you, lady Ruxandra." Remilia said evenly.

"I believe it's because our peers glut themselves," Ruxandra decided aloud, "Such habitual feeding lends itself to the monstrous aspect. You and I are more restrained."

Remilia frowned thoughtfully at that. "Perhaps."

"Well, there are a few theories. Others think there's good blood, bad blood, and others believe it is a matter of sin that determines our appearance.  
But I can tell this doesn't stimulate you, miss Scarlet!" Ruxandra raised her voice at last.

"I apologise. I am in something of a hurry." Remilia managed, forcing a tired smile.

"To get back to your sister?" Ruxandra asked, her eyes flashing as she leant back in her chair.  
Remilia decided then that she did not like Ruxandra.

"My mansion commands the Black Sea. Whatever enemies exist in the west, the ottomans can't be ignored." Remilia replied.

Ruxandra leant back, saying nothing for a moment. "_Your_ mansion? Who's your father, who owned it beforehand?"  
Remilia said nothing for a long time.

"Vlad Tepes Dracula?" Ruxandra smirked.

"A necessary tactic to avoid bloodshed." Remilia countered.

Once more, Ruxandra's eyes flashed. "A vampire that_ avoids_ bloodshed by disguising herself as one of our noble line? You do intrigue me, miss Scarlet – that's what you've taken to calling yourself, isn't it?"  
Remilia kept her mouth shut, knowing she had to choose her words more carefully.

"Well fear not, my little charlatan, for I have been watching you, and I approve of what I've seen so far," Ruxandra simpered, "You've shown qualities entirely befitting Dracula's line."  
Remilia dared to hope, but she said nothing.  
Ruxandra clicked her fingers, and two ghouls – dishevelled and rotting – staggered in, holding an object blanketed with a white cloth. As soon as the object came within reach, Ruxandra pulled away the veil.  
Remilia's breath hitched in her throat.

"So? What do you think?"

Remilia's red eyes slipped from the canvas to Ruxandra. "Lady Ruxandra, I could not possibly accept – why, I am not worthy."  
"No, you're not," Ruxandra hissed, putting Remilia on the backfoot, "you're nameless. Bloodless. A ragpicker and a pretender."  
Remilia's wings bristled at the words, and for a second thought she might kill Ruxandra then and there. She'd likely die in the attempt, slain in turn by Ruxandra, Mihnea or their countless supporters.  
It was only the thought of Flandre waiting for her that stayed her hand.  
"That is also why you can't afford to decline this offer." Ruxandra went on. "Come now, isn't he handsome?"

* * *

Ruxandra's fond farewell was like poison.  
Remilia whipped the reins, her teeth gnashing as her coach wheels sliced through the churned earth of Transylvania. She'd killed and killed and killed her way through invaders, vampire hunters and undead boyars.  
As she followed the dirt track through the muddy battlefield to her home, her her ruminations turned vicious. Was this what it had all been for? A wasteland of sulphur, broken stone and a fence of impaled bodies, backlit by a burning sky? Is this what she had been waiting for? For their supposed lord to pull the wings off of flies and play at church whilst the country burned?!  
He was not worthy! _He was not worthy!_  
With one hand fuelled by rage, Remilia cast the fictitious portrait of Mihnea off of the coach. She didn't watch to see how it bounced and broke. She rode hard for her Scarlet Devil Mansion, the wind ruffling her pastel-blue hair.

Once she was home and robbed of her vitriol, Remilia curled up in her bed, still clad in her mud-splashed doublet, jerkin and hose, her eyes watching the window and the burning, stake-marked horizon beyond it.  
She heard her bedroom door click, and she tensed.

"It's okay, Remi," Flandre's voice was so small and so timid it broke Remilia's heart, "I can-"  
Remilia relaxed for a second as the silence hung between them.

"I can- I can marry him, i-if-"

"No." Remilia threw the covers off of herself so quickly that when she turned, she saw Flandre flinching. She saw that her little sister's eyes were red and puffy from weeping.  
For an instant, Remilia imagined this fluffball having to live in an unfamiliar castle surrounded by strangers and wed to a sadistic maniac that was in love with his father's shadow.

"No, Flan. It's okay." She whispered, beckoning her close. Flan hesitated, then rushed in, hugging her fiercely.  
"It's alright." Remilia lied, knowing that she'd have to send word tomorrow. Would she marry the petulant little tyrant? Would Flan? Would she resist, and add another enemy to the list?  
"Flan," Remilia murmured as she kissed the top of her head, "We still have those books in the library, right?"

"Books?" Flandre asked.

"Grimoires, sorcerers scrolls. Occult stuff." Remilia whispered back as her fingers toyed with Flandre's blonde locks.

"Umm." Flandre managed.

"Do you like it here?" Remilia asked as she thought about the fantasy books she'd read to Flandre when they were smaller, of green fields, of noble kings slaying dragons and reigning over prospering lands.  
Flandre thought about the blackened and befouled earth outside, the smell of dead bodies, the frequency of Remilia's brooding spells and all the bad people that had tried to hurt her big sister.

"No." She admitted.  
Remilia gave Flandre's head another loving squeeze.

"Then," She withdrew a touch, smiling down at her little sister's face, "I've got some reading to do, haven't I?"

* * *

**London**

_Don't!_  
Sergei staggered back as a stab of pain hit him behind the eyes. The Chinese gatekeeper, perplexed and still some distance away, stepped back.  
She was right to.  
She leant back hard as a hot, poisonous wind rushed past her face, blowing her red braids all about.  
Meiling retreated another pace, loading her right hand to counter her attacker.  
But the Russian hadn't followed her. He was standing back, a hand to his own temple, his shoulders shaking as he began to laugh.  
"The man's cracked!" One of the nearby humans exclaimed. Meiling said nothing, her eyes always on the Russian as she held her ground.  
_She's more dangerous than we thought. We cannot fight her here, not alone. Please, Sergei, we know where they live now, go back to Mister Stables, let us-  
_"_Shut up_!" He bellowed.  
Not a soul moved.  
A dark chuckle rolled out of Sergei. He offered his opponent a wintry smile as he opened up his arms, as though presenting a target.

"Perhaps later we will dance, then I will set to excising. _Dasvidaniya._" The Russian said before he turned and began his journey back to his master's house, muttering as he went.

Meiling's gaze followed him, her hands still formed into fists.

"Miss? You're bleeding." One of the humans observed.

Meiling only felt the pain when her attention was drawn to it. She bent her elbow and looked down her forearm to find a long red line dribbling from a gash in her wrist.  
She afforded it only a glance, unsettled by the heat haze that rose off of the Russian's back as he walked away.  
Part of her wanted to kill the Russian before he gathered himself and came back for another showing. To be able to cut her without a blade, without touching her... There was something about him that made him a threat to the mistress. What's more, his upset made him unpredictable, and that made him all the more dangerous.  
That realisation snapped her out of her musing. It made Meiling turn on her heel and hurry through the gate of the mansion. She'd sent Sakuya on ahead without any direction. There was every chance she'd get herself hurt, every chance she'd meet the wrong sister.

* * *

Remilia leant forward on the balustrade as she observed the flowers beneath them.  
"Well?" The glum voice asked from behind her.

"Well, what? I didn't quite hear you." Remilia admitted as her attention lingered on the tulips. They reminded her of the boiled sweets that she and Sakuya had brought home; little curved tablets of plastic colour.

"You were going to tell me what you would've said to me, if your newly acquired maid hadn't secured the permissions of the tutor." Patchouli's murmur was accompanied by the crisp snap of a page being turned.  
Remilia turned with a smile and leant back, her elbows on the white railing that surrounded the balcony, now shaded with umbrellas set up by Koakuma, the witch's familiar.

"The outcome was never in doubt, Patchy." Remilia said.

Patchouli stared at her before she lazily clicked her fingers.  
At the sound, Koakuma staggered onto the balcony with them, a large glass orb clutched to her chest. She moved over to the table, setting it down with a thud.  
For a moment, Remilia observed Koakuma. As always, Patchouli's library assistant wore a tidy black dress with white sleeves, her burgundy hair and red tie a splash of colour on an otherwise neat uniform. Unlike Remilia, she had two pairs of wings – one set sprouted from her back, another smaller set emerging behind and to the sides of her head.  
She thought they looked like the antennae on an insect, unkind though the comparison was.

"Thank you, Koakuma." Patchouli said delicately, tossing a smile towards the little demon.  
Koakuma beamed back, shakily murmuring a 'I serve' before bowing to Remilia and leaving them alone.  
Another page fluttered over as Remilia stared sullenly at the crystal ball.

"So you've been spying on me." She said.

"I've been checking up on you, Remi." Patchouli corrected, her eyes leaving the book to look over Remilia's face.  
To her relief and annoyance both, she still donned that arrogant little grin of hers.

"I _knew_ Patchouli Knowledge would be so well armed for the task at hand, _and_ fortuitously ready for the work ahead!"

"What are you talking about?" Patchouli asked, her weary eyes watching from beneath her unruly fringe of purple hair.  
Remilia waved her hands submissively. "I will need inside knowledge from my Knowledge," She saw the way the witch's frown deepened, "to convince Mister Osbourne of my worth, it would pay to know about him."

"Would it not be simple enough to speak to him with hat in hand? It seems your maid thinks that's the problem." Patchouli said.  
Remilia's questioning expression encouraged her to go on, "if you spoke to him as though he was your peer?"

"Or," Remilia sounded, "I could tell him _what_ I am."

"A terrible idea." Patchouli stated as she returned to her book.

Remilia rocked back as though physically struck. "Well, _why_ is it a terrible idea?"

"Because they that believe in vampires these days fear them, hunt them, or both." Patchouli explained. Remilia forced herself to scoff at that.

"D'oh, like anyone will be hunting for our kind at this tim-"

"And the other half of humanity believes that vampires do not exist. Those are the two possibilities.  
Now stop tossing out assumptions that contradict the knowledge you value so highly."

Remilia scowled as her fists closed.

"I'm _trying_, Patchy." She grated.

Patchouli blinked, her eyes leaving the book to look over at her. Recently, Remilia had been distant and stubborn, ignoring Patchouli's suggestions. Such behaviour didn't leave the witch inclined to help.  
However, Remilia had taken her in when no-one else ought to, given her a home free of persecution in exchange for her counsel and her company.  
And she was trying.  
Patchouli lowered her chin. "I'm sorry, Remi. I appreciate your efforts, and I don't suppose my snarky attitude will help you.  
Will you at least consider my advice?" Patchouli asked, forcing a smile and levelling it at Remilia.  
The dead princess nodded wordlessly.  
"Approach him with humility. A lack of it can leave a bad taste in the mouth of those you might wish to befriend." Patchouli said.

"Mmm." Remilia murmured.

"Perhaps more importantly, you should…"

"Yes?" Remilia asked.

"You should be honest with him – that is, as honest as is prudent to be. Most humans regard honesty as a sign of reliability.  
We should know, we used to live amongst them." Patchouli said, wincing when she'd realised what she said.

"…Yeah," Remilia agreed, "Is there anything else?"

"No- yes, there is," The witch leafed over a few pages to the formulae she had written down, "I've been compiling the ingredients necessary for another shift in location. Given the scarcity, I will have to sacrifice direction, and-"

"That will not satisfy." Remilia cut across.

"Eh?" Patchouli managed.

"We will need precise calculations this time. This last time." Remilia said, her signature smirk returning.  
There was a pause.

"Don't." Patchouli muttered.  
Now it was Remilia's turn to be confused. Her look prompted Patchouli, who eventually averted her eyes.

"Don't get my hopes up. Not again."

Remilia left the balustrade. At her approach, Patchouli looked up at her.  
"Gensokyo." Remilia said.  
Patchouli sighed as she shook her head. "Remilia, I'm very tired-"

"_Be _tired. I don't care. We're going to Gensokyo. My best witch-"

"Your_ only_ witch-"  
"my best and only witch, she found me," Remilia purred, "the locale, the _ideal_ place for our august group of misfits, and I'd be remiss if I did not use her wisdom now."  
Patchouli looked worried. Remilia gave her a confident grin.

"So make the preparations! You have our previous journey's calculations logged?" Remilia asked.

"You know I do." Patchouli sighed heavily, blinking hard as she looked over at the orb on the table.

"Good. Means you're not working from step one, you just need to add or subtract a few miles here or there. Now, is there anything else, before you show me what you can about this mister Osbourne?"

Patchouli had been on the cusp of scoffing at Remilia's downplaying of the magical complications, but when it came to other matters, one plagued her mind.  
"…Your sister needs to speak with you." Patchouli said.

"Tell her to wait." Remilia countered almost immediately.

"I can't." Patchouli sighed.

Remilia's chin lifted, frowning at Patchy's choice of words. "Can't?"

Patchouli hesitated. "She's growing unstable." She decided.

"Show me my sister?" Remilia asked, leaving the balustrade to approach the table. Patchouli leant forward, her pale white hand stroking the glass of the crystal ball, coaxing the twisting smoke within it to roil and turn over itself, faster and faster until it cleared.

"Meiling and myself, we've done our best to persuade her, but without anything concrete to share with her… Oh, _no._"

They saw her through the murky portal of the crystal. The devil's little sister, standing sullenly before a slashed bed, a cratered wall, the wreckage of a ruined bedroom…  
And before her, shaking, stood the maid with silver hair.  
Before Patchouli could rise from her chair to hurry inside, Remilia was already gone.

* * *

The servant girl struggled to stay conscious. Her head throbbed as an invisible force dug into her shoulders. Her knees felt weak. She could feel her eyelids struggling to stay open, but she didn't dare close them, not in this place.  
At first glance, the little girl with blonde hair in her pink pyjamas didn't look dangerous. A casual observer might find the twig-like protrusions sprouted from behind her back curious and perhaps marvel at the sixteen colourful jewels that hung from them, but they wouldn't feel threatened.  
Not until they saw the glowing red eyes and the bitterness they held. Not until they watched her right hand's fingers grow crooked – as though the little girl was holding a ball that fitted in her palm – and felt the crushing pressure mount on them.

"Why did you wake me?" The girl in the pyjamas asked.

"I'm sorry, miss, I-I got lost." The servant girl admitted.

The girl in the pyjamas said nothing. The servant girl felt as though she was living moment to moment, the tension across her body shifting, bending, testing.

"Tell me why I shouldn't play with you." The girl in the pyjamas said, her voice laden with menace.  
The servant girl didn't have an answer for her. She'd rushed into the mansion to escape Sergei's attentions, only to be stopped dead by this creature that looked like an ordinary girl. She'd lived in fear of discovery, pain, imprisonment and death, and now, to find there were other things like her master, his sister and his underlings…  
Tears ran down the servant girl's cheeks, her mouth opening to say something.

"Why are you smiling?" The girl in the pyjamas asked as she opened her clutching hand a fraction.  
Like that, the pressure almost disappeared. The servant girl shuddered, her strength failing her. She would have fallen if that invisible force had disappeared entirely.

"Do I amuse you?" The girl whispered, her tone suggesting that the servant girl had best provide her own answer.

"I am terribly sorry, miss, it was inapprop-" The servant girl whispered, her mind whirring as she contemplated the best thing to say to this unknown.

"Go on, tell me," The girl in the pyjamas demanded, "tell me why you smile at _me_."

"I have spent a long time worrying over my sins, only for this to happen..."  
The girl in the pyjamas tilted her head.

"Sins?" She asked, her voice lacking the icy sharpness it had possessed a moment ago.

The servant girl nodded, her smile fading. "Yes."

"Did you steal?" The girl in the pyjamas asked.

A pressure of another kind returned to the servant girl, a pressure that rested itself around her throat.  
"You might say that, yes." The servant girl admitted.

"What did you steal?"

The servant girl could still recall the hunted look her victims had given her before the bag had slammed over their heads. She could recall the wild eyes darting this way and that for an escape as her master later went in with the knife, the last despairing howls-

The servant girl coughed as her throat constricted. "Things that can't be put back."

"Did you mean to?"

The servant girl was taken aback by the question.

"I never wanted to." The servant girl whispered. Her captor – the girl with blonde hair and the crystal branches – seemed to untense, a flicker of fragile understanding in her red eyes as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Flandre! Sister, Flan…"

As Remilia's voice delivered those three words, the world shrank. The servant girl took in a sharp breath as she was held in place by raw terror. The entire room groaned as though the foundations of the mansion were being twisted.  
The girl in front of her was no longer so demure. She grimaced, her eyes glaring past the servant girl at the newcomer.

"You woke me up with her." Flandre Scarlet snarled.

"I didn't." Remilia said, hurrying over to the side. The servant girl felt some of the pressure slip from her as the little sister's gaze followed her elder sibling.

"Then why is she here? She's your pet now, isn't she?" Flandre asked, her eyes going wide, "Why are you here?"

"She got lost, Flan, I never- I came to talk to you. Patchy said you needed to speak with me." Remilia said, her voice suddenly dreary.

"You're a liar." Flandre decided. "You don't want to talk to me. And! Liars get punished, that's what you told me."

"Flandre, don't do this." Remilia said.

The servant girl felt her heart shrink when she heard the uncertain note in Remilia's voice. _Just what was this Flandre?_

"Why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I do what I want? Go outside? Leave forever?" Flandre fired back.

"Because I want to take care of you, Flandre. I love y-"

"_Liar!_" She snarled, her hand snatching something up from her bedside and pelting it at the ground with bulleting force, so fast that the servant girl missed it.  
The alarm clock bounced and struck Remilia's leg. With a supernatural strength behind it, the clock exploded, sending shattered plastic, cogs and splintering metal across the room.  
Remilia flinched. Flandre paused. Her snarl was gone. Instead, her mouth hung open, mortified as she searched her big sister's face for something, anything.

"I-I'm sorry-" She stammered.

"Yes, well, perhaps we should return to having the door locked to keep this from happening again." Remilia cut her off, her expression like granite as she went to take the servant girl's arm and walk out of the room.  
She stopped when she felt resistance.

"Sakuya, keep up." She said.

"I-I can see my own way out. You- is it alright, to leave her like this?" She turned to look over at the girl in the pink pyjamas, only to be dragged back.

"I can. I will." Remilia hissed, pulling Sakuya hard enough to off-set her.

"Please, don't, not on my account…" Sakuya searched for an excuse as they went closer to the door.  
The both of them jumped when they heard Flandre shriek. Remilia turned about fast, expecting a blow.  
There was no such attack. Flandre was on her knees, her hands in her tousled hair, a frustrated roar billowing out of her. The mansion itself seemed to writhe in sympathy.  
Sakuya tore her eyes from the screaming girl to look over Remilia. The mistress' mouth hung open, her expression aghast.  
She watched as Remilia held her hand out, as though about to grip something out of the air.

"Go to her." Sakuya managed.

"What?!" Remilia shouted as sobs crept into Flandre's wailing, every piercing shriek forcing another pained moan from the mansion's bones.

"Be her big sister! Listen to her! _Listen to her!_" Sakuya shouted.

She watched Remilia turn to front her sister, even as the little girl howled, even as the mansion began to shake.  
Sakuya's eyes caught a sparking light that flared and crackled around Flandre, one that waxed with her tantrum.  
A staff had appeared in Flandre's grasp. It was crooked, hooked on one end, and it was enveloped in a brilliant fire that crackled with erratic life, leaping across the carpet and rushing the walls of the basement room.  
But the fire did not burn the girl, nor did it singe her clothes. She strangled it with her hands, slashing the floor with it. The fire did not behave like ordinary fire. It did not dance, it splashed and sliced and hammered and whirled at its owner's behest.  
Sakuya saw Remilia rush Flan.  
On Sakuya's words, Remilia Scarlet was rushing this cyclone of fire and fury.

"Mistress!" She screamed, trying to follow her, but the flames were fierce and forced her back.

Breath and smoke caught in her throat as she watched, shouting, then whispering after Remilia.  
The last thing she saw before the smoke strangled her into unconsciousness was Remilia grasping a hold of Flandre.

* * *

"Hey. You waking up?"

The servant girl stirred, coughing. Her throat was raw and her skin felt itchy and heat-hardened.  
She was lying in a bed, in a guest room coloured in all shades of red.  
At the foot of the bed was Flandre, still dressed in her pyjamas, still flanked by multi-coloured crystals hanging from those branches.  
The servant girl scrabbled backwards as she threw the covers off of herself, her hand rushing for a weapon.

"I-I'm-" Flandre stammered out.

The servant girl paused. She saw Flandre's puffy red eyes and the exhausted slope of her shoulders. It didn't stop the servant girl being afraid, but it took the edge of her fear. It got her sitting down.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, miss Sakuya. " Flandre mumbled. The apology sounded like it had been encouraged, but it was sincere enough.

The servant girl regarded her warily, trying not to cough overtly. "Did you burn miss Remilia?"

"What? No, I'd never do that!" Flandre whispered, upset at the suggestion.

"Where is she?" The servant girl asked, looking about the room as she contemplated Flandre's words, recalling their time at the circus. _Who had burnt her so, then? _She hadn't imagined the scarring she'd had to cover up…

"I can go get her if you want." Flandre offered.

The servant girl contemplated saying no, but Flandre got up and nodded with childlike certainty.

"I'll go get her." She said and hurried to leave.

The servant girl watched her go and realised that those had not been branches.  
The servant girl could not relax once she was left alone. She had fled into the mansion to remove herself from the Russian's presence, only to find herself threatened by a girl who was apparently the mistress' sister.  
She was surrounded by monsters. The Russian and the cabal her master had drawn around him, this mistress with the scarred face, her devilish sister and her esoteric servants.  
With a shuddering breath, she let herself fall back into the marshmallow-like softness of the bed and tried to relax.

In the end, neither sleep nor Remilia came for her.  
"Ah! There she is!" Meiling chirped as she opened the door, clad in her green dress.  
The servant girl looked on at her with eyes like dulled silver.  
It only took a moment for Meiling to recognise that her trademark blithe energy would be of little comfort here. So she adjusted.

"You're safe now," Meiling said, speaking gently as she approached the bed, "the confused gentleman decided to leave the premises of his own volition."

The servant girl's gaze affected the middle distance as more thoughts clouded her head. _Why had he come here? Was he here to kill Remilia? To kill me? What's to stop him coming back again, with the ocean spirit and the others? What if they hurt Meiling? Should I return to the master and-_

"Hey, it's alright!" Meiling insisted, her voice laden in sympathy.

The servant girl realised she was crying. She realised she was tired. And anxious. And terrified. And hopeless. And-  
And she was making a scene in front of someone who couldn't begin to understand-  
"I-I'm…!" The servant girl choked as her hands went to her eyes, trying to stem the flow.

"It's okay, it's okay." Meiling's voice came closer.

"It's not, you can't…" The servant girl hissed. How had she been so weak, to go along with his plan in the first place? What had compelled her to obey?  
She felt something made of silk move against her hand. She looked up.  
She saw Meiling's fingers shrouded in an embroidered handkerchief. They were locked gently around her wrist.

"I won't let anyone hurt an employee of the Scarlet Devil Mansion." Meiling earnestly, her voice so strong and yet so soft that it made the servant girl briefly forget about her fears, her sins, her bondage.  
Meiling slid the handkerchief up into the servant girl's grasp. She smiled just a little brighter before she began to back, to give the servant girl the room.

"Don't-" The servant girl's voice was a hoarse whisper and her grip on Meiling's arm was weak, but it was enough to stop her.

Slowly, the gatekeeper sat herself down on the bed. "If that will help you sleep, miss Sakuya." Meiling said tenderly. She went to the side of the bed and sat herself down, offering her hand.  
The servant girl laid back as she took it, the pillow sighing as her head hit it. Her hammering heartbeat steadied as her off hand clutched the gatekeeper's fingers.  
Along with her worries, and just for a little while, Sakuya would forget her real name.

* * *

Remilia, Flandre and Patchouli crowded the crystal ball.  
"She is _very_ weak." Patchouli said.

"She is, I know, because when I was playing with her she- umm…" Flandre trailed off.

"That is quite fine. I don't need any more soldiers, after all," Remilia said airily, "Besides, I doubt she'll stay weak for long."

"What makes you say that?" Patchouli asked. Remilia opened her mouth and raised a finger to respond, before she rounded suddenly on the table and latched her hand over the crystal ball.

"Show me Edwin Barnes!" Remilia declared.

The smoke began to roll, only to come apart to reveal empty glass.

"…Show me, Edwin Barnes!" Remilia exclaimed again, her other talons pointed skyward.  
Again, nothing.  
Remilia glanced Patchouli's way in a clear appeal for help, so as to not appear foolish in front of her sister. The hint was not lost on Patchouli, who furrowed her brow as she tried to coax the mists within the glass to stir with a wave of her fingers.

"Edwin Barnes, this is someone who might know what afflicts your maid?" Patchouli asked.

"He is the maid's current master," Remilia said curtly, "I met him yesterday, and he was resistant to my attempts to purchase her from him. His ownership is transient, however."

"Hmm. An alias, perhaps?" Patchouli leant back, catching the disquieted look Remilia threw her.  
"There _is_ no Edwin Barnes. He gave you a false name." Patchouli said.

"Which means he's hiding something…" Remilia whispered, cupping her own chin with her fingers.

"What could it be?!" Flandre exclaimed, keen to join in on her sister's melodrama.  
Remilia glanced at Patchouli, then back to her sister before she smiled. "What indeed? Is he a murderous rakehell? A thief of lives and fortunes? Or perhaps-"

"Sakuya said she stole." Flandre said.  
There was a pause.

"She stole?" Remilia asked.

"Yeah. She stole things that couldn't be put back." Flandre explained.

Remilia and Patchouli looked at one another.

"What's a rakehell?" Flandre asked.

"…Flan, you wanted to talk to me earlier." Remilia said.  
"…Yeah." Flandre said, her fascination about this Edwin Barnes replaced now with something tired and raw and wary.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't there to listen to you. You must think I'm the worst sister." Remilia sighed.

"…Not _really_ the worst." Flandre admitted.  
That got a smile from her elder sister.

"I know we had to run from the baddies." Flandre continued.

"We're still running, but not for much longer," Remilia said, turning and flashing Patchouli a charming smile, "Patchouli has found a place for us to live."

"A place to live?" Flandre asked, turning to Patchouli with wide, trusting eyes.

Patchouli was low energy most of the time, but when thrust into the limelight in front of the scariest resident of the mansion, she felt obliged to emote.  
The magician smiled widely. "Gensokyo. Once a desolate scrap of wasteland in the east, now a paradise that accepts everything."

"Even vampires?" Flandre asked in wonder, her smile for once bright and excited.

"Even vampires." Patchouli nodded sagely. There was a pause.

"Even the bad vampires?" Flandre asked in a small voice.

"There'll be room for your sister, if that's what you mean." Patchouli smiled smugly as she caught Remilia's irritated grin.

"No, the _bad_ vampires." Flandre insisted, her brows knitted.

"They won't be allowed in, Flan," Remilia said as she approached her, "Once we go to Gensokyo, we'll be safe. You, y_ou_, will be safe." She emphasised, a hand going to the side of Flandre's head and bringing her in for a hug.

"Once we're there, you and I can have that talk. Okay?" Remilia asked.

"'Kay." Flandre whispered. Remilia looked down at her with a grin, grateful to see Flan's shy little smile peeking up at her.

"Sorry for hitting you." Flandre mumbled.

"I know." Remilia replied. Flandre nodded mutely before she said she was going to go and play.  
Remilia let her go, privately wishing she could go join her, rather than visit this mister Osbourne a second time.

"That was unlike you," Patchouli piped up, her attention fixated on the crystal ball, "Mind explaining?"

"Ah. Advice from a _very _weak person." Remilia explained with a smile.

Patchouli glanced over at her mistress. "Shall I diagnose the patient, once Meiling's done fawning over her?"

"Would you? I would appreciate your eye for detail in this matter." Remilia said.

Patchouli shuffled in her chair as she settled back in to watching the looking glass. "You should've said 'I forgive you' when Flandre apologised, by the way."

"I'm sure she knows." Remilia shrugged, turning to go back into the mansion. Patchouli watched her go, allowing herself to smile before her attention locked on the crystal.  
Once Remilia knew she was out of sight of the doorway, she changed her direction so she could follow Flan's trail.

Patchouli would spend all of a minute jotting down an outline for her research into this mister Osbourne before deciding no researcher could be without an English muffin, retiring into the mansion herself to raid the kitchen.  
The crystal ball sat there, inert, before the clouded center parted to reveal a single leering eye that peered out through the purple, filmy darkness. Its red iris constricted, the black-as-coal pupil leaping warily all about the glass.  
Satisfied that its operator's possession had gone unnoticed, the eye turned inward.


	5. Chapter 5

**Gensokyo, Before London**

Like always, the sounds of knives thudding on wood began at one o'clock, going on for a matter of minutes as Ran Yakumo sliced and diced the bricks of tofu she'd taken from the pantry. Occasionally, it would take longer – when mistress Yukari had need of her, or when Chen was getting rambunctious – but it would get done, and the cubes would be tossed into an oiled pan where they'd sizzle and hiss.  
Occasionally, there'd be a damp inhale when Ran caught herself salivating as she watched the faces of the cubed tofu go a crisp brown. Almost without fail, her startled embarrassment would earn a laugh from her mistress if she was within earshot.  
Ran hurriedly caught herself doing just that – it was unseemly to drool – but Yukari made no comment from the living room.  
The silence dampened Ran's mood, but only a little. She turned the tofu time after time before she leant out of the kitchen.  
Yukari was sitting in the living room, resplendent in her white dress and purple tabard.

Ran almost returned to the kitchen when Yukari asked, loudly, "Ran, would you say this project is a good idea?"

The youkai expansion project. Yes, that. Yukari had made a fair few enemies in the outside world, and some were strong enough to hurt her.

"It is my mistress' plan; it will be done." Ran said the words, knowing they would not be enough.

"Speak plainly." Yukari called out, providing Ran with the necessary permissions.

"…Let me just serve up…!" Ran poured the deluge of golden brown cubes into two bowls – and a mug for Chen, to be set aside for later – and made her way into the living room.  
She ensured Yukari was served and armed with a set of chopsticks before she sat herself down, forcing herself to refrain from enjoying herself just yet. She turned to regard the same vista Yukari did.  
The maple leaves that lay before the naked trees was like a sea of wet, hot colour beneath an otherworldly mist. The barrier – visible only to those who lived in the house before the Border – glowed and fizzled with power, bisecting and painting the sector it dominated a brilliant golden orange, one that put even the tofu and the spoils of autumn to shame.  
Ran tried hard not to think about the food in front of her as she formulated her answer.

"I think it is a wise way to display your benevolence, mistress Yukari, and a way to declaw potential rivals. The tengu were remarkably pliant, once we demonstrated your intent." Ran explained.

She was pleased to see that her words brought a smile – however tepid – to Yukari's face.

"Speaking of which," Ran went on, "Zenki and Goki's expedition in sector 18 have borne fruit."

"The vampire outbreak?" Yukari asked warily.

"Yes, they've been watching one particular vampire- please, hear me out!" Ran exclaimed when Yukari began to rise, who was clearly leery at the prospect of treating with blood drinkers.

Reluctantly, Yukari sat herself down, her golden eyes staring into Ran's.

"One particular vampire who has displayed unusual behavior…"

And so, after a lengthy period of communicating through letters, an interview was arranged. The servants of the gap youkai charged out to deliver an invitation to the Scarlet Devil Mansion even as it rushed across space and time in erratic fashion.

Ran liked to think she was good at reading the intent found in others. Part of her job was to protect her mistress from unsavory types.

So as she and Chen were led through the Scarlet Devil Mansion, her hopes were quietly fanned by what she saw and felt. The gatekeeper had been friendly without being intrusive, the winged library assistant was demure and an informative tour guide, and when she met the teenage witch, she was almost sure that she'd found the ideal candidates for her mistress.

"Patchouli Knowledge, I presume?" Ran Yakumo's words startled the girl so hard she bumped her head on the shelf she had been searching under.

"Ow… Ah! Is that miss Ran there?" Patchouli asked in a rush, her purple eyes looking Chen up and down.

Chen took the form of a small girl in a red dress with white sleeves and gold trim, her chestnut brown hair -and a pair of black cat ears - peeking out beneath the green hat she wore.

"I'm Chen!" She exclaimed, raising a hand in greeting and giving Patchouli a big smile.

"Chen the cat?" Patchouli chanced as her focus lingered on the girl's ears.

"Oh- a bakeneko. Cat youkai." Ran explained, inwardly chastising herself as Chen rounded on her with a wounded look that said 'I was going to say', "She's the shikigami of…"  
She waited until Chen rounded on her again to see her expectant smile.  
There was the excited sound of a small voice taking a deep breath.

"RAN!" Chen shouted, her big smile returning.

"Yes! Oh, and I'm Ran Yakumo. How do you do?" Ran explained at last with a bow.

"I'm a little nervous, honestly, though! It is a pleasure to meet you, Chen, as I've never encountered a bakeneko before." Patchouli made a point to bow to Chen.  
The small catgirl bowed back, swept up in the moment.

"And Ran Yakumo, hello! Thank you again f-for…" Patchouli's left foot faltered.

Ran's hands left the folds of her sleeves as she rushed forward. She caught Patchouli on the way down.

Before Ran could ask, Patchouli gripped at her arm for support. "I'm okay, I'm okay, j-just need to sit down."

"Understood. Chen, a chai-" Ran's command was masked by the sound of a cascade of papers splashing the ground, punctuated by the smack of hardbacks bouncing off of the library's carpet.  
And the sound of the crystal ball's hard, heavy shape rolling across the floor.

"Chen?!" Ran raised her voice in mock outrage.  
Chen flinched at the reproachful sound, her two tails bristling as she stood poised, ready to attack the pile.

"Get me a chair for miss Patchouli, this instant!" She said sternly.

"I- wha- but-!" Chen started.

"_Now!_ And no backtalk!" Ran commanded, feeling her heart strain at seeing Chen's wounded expression.

The bakeneko moved quickly to bring a chair over, even though she looked hopelessly sad. Once Patchouli had her hands on the head of the chair, Ran craned around.  
"I'll see to the mess. I am really, terribly sorry about this." Ran said, offering a fox-like smile.

"It's fine, I can summon Koakuma here to deal with it-"

"Ah, no need." Ran brushed off the offer, hurrying to the mess, shuffling the papers, arranging the books and - when she was sure the witch wasn't looking - examined the crystal ball closer. She went low with a hand, slipping a wispy, smoke-like shikigami between the layers of glass, giving it a moment to lose itself in the pool of shadows at the ball's center before she helped the solid mass back onto the shelf.  
Satisfied with her placement of the listening device, Ran fussed over the order of books until Koakuma arrived.

The tea came and went. Patchouli apologised for her display as they seated themselves, with the teenage witch launching into an animated discussion on sorcery whilst Chen sulked beside her mistress. Ran held her cards close, but remained pleasant and attentive, prompting Patchouli with questions and satisfying her with answers when the opportunities presented themselves.  
To Ran, it was like visiting an old friend.

"So, so! Umm… you've read about our situation, then?" Patchouli breathed out, spent from her motor-mouthing.

Ran inclined her head. "I have. My mistress appreciates the thoroughness you showed when you gave inventory, and so long as no secrets are withheld, I believe your worth far exceeds your cost.  
Miss Patchouli, you do look unwell." Ran Yakumo finished, noting how Patchouli's eyes tried to leave hers.

"Ah, is this her?" A dreary, high-pitched voice said behind Ran.

Ran felt a shiver run through her tails, her gaze involuntarily going to the great doors of the library. They were still shut.  
She made a show of hurrying to her feet and bowing to the entity behind her. "An honour to meet you, Miss Scarlet, I am Ran Yakumo, servant to Mistress Yukari Yakumo!"

Remilia Scarlet's red eyes looked up at Ran as though bored.

"For how long does she intend to make me wait?"

Ran's determined frown deepened for an instant. "She is ready to see you now." _She was ever ready._

"Remi…" Patchouli's whisper didn't make it past Ran's hearing.

"Lock up whilst I'm gone, Patchy," Remilia waved off the concern, "and try not to worry yourself sick. This is a formality."

Ran consciously took in a breath as she restrained her irritation at Remilia's blasé attitude.  
Then she caught the worried look on Patchouli's expression. The same expression Ran had wore when she fretted over her own mistress.  
Ran forced herself to smile for the teenage witch's benefit.

When she led Remilia through the gap that Yukari had left for them, Ran's frustration turned to worry.

Yukari was fond of symbolism and drama, using living examples found in time or in fable to stress whatever point she was trying to make.

Ran stepped out first onto the grass and dirt of mount Shiroyama, and realised she had to be quick.

"One moment please, mistress Scarlet." She hurriedly turned, bowed, and strode up the hill with her hands hidden in the sleeves of her dress. The night was dark, but to a youkai's eyes it was no obstruction. She could see the figure of her mistress standing on a rocky spire that jutted out to overlook the slopes.

Below them, the imperial army of Japan, in their midnight blue uniforms and their immaculate dress, continued to ready the guns for their midnight assault against the rebel samurai. The two armies were like a mass of insects beneath the two youkai.

"Mistress Yukari, I do not believe this display is suitable. Granted, such a show of force had the desired effect on mistress Kazami, but…" Ran said.

Yukari's pink dress flowed as she turned, her golden eyes having lost their lustrous sheen as they regarded Ran's coldly.  
"Do you claim to know my mind, servant? To judge my actions?"

Ran felt the words hit her like a blow to the gut. The venomous tone, the divorced look in her mistress' eyes…

"Mistress Yukari, it's not too late. Let us conduct the interview some other time. Please, the- the work you could do together!" Ran protested.

"Bring her here. We shall talk." Yukari said, her voice tinged with disdain.

"Mistress Yukari-"  
And like that, Ran's words cut off. Yukari had muted her. She looked up into Yukari's narrowing eyes.

"You've said too much. Bring her here. Now, that I might render judgement." Yukari commanded.

With her speaking rights revoked and her body's autonomy suspended, Ran wordlessly obeyed, going down the slope to collect Remilia.

Her eyes stared vacantly over the slope, hopelessness mingling with outrage. She watched the imperial army butcher the rebelling humans as Yukari verbally lambasted Remilia, throwing all their work away.

Ran worked as hard as she ever did. She dispatched orders through the Yakumo network's hordes of spies, shikigami and messengers, completed her chores and give assignments to Chen.

But there was no flourish to the work or liveliness to her. She completed the work to her usual high standards, but after that she would wane. She'd taken to the habit of taking off her dress and returning to her bed. Yukari passed no comment on it, though Chen would ask – loudly and worriedly – why her immediate superior was acting this way.

One day, Ran would hear the pitter-patter of her shikigami's feet on the border house's floor mats, and she'd curl harder into the covers.

"Miss Ran! Mistress Yukari wants to know if you'd like some fried tofu!" Chen exclaimed with a broad smile.

Awkward silence resumed.

"…I, I told her you love fried tofu, but she told me to come ask if- to come ask you if you'd like some?" Chen insisted.

Another pause.

"She'll cook it for you if you'd like!" Chen piped up.

"No, I'm not hungry." Ran mumbled.

She turned her back, her blonde tails lying flat on the floorboards.

"Please eat something, Miss Ran?" Chen pleaded.

"Whatever is being made, I'll be satisfied." Ran said without feeling.

"O-Okay." Chen said, her voice so small and so sad that it made Ran feel wretched.  
She heard her shikigami rush away to tell Yukari.

When night fell, it was Yukari who opened her door, letting light flood in from the living room.

"You have something to say to me, Ran, and you have my permission to say it." Yukari sighed.

Ran's shoulders sagged, her eyes still on the opposite door that led outside. "'Gensokyo accepts everything'. You told me that, frequently.  
You remember?" Ran asked.

After a pause, Yukari spoke. "I do."

The covers bunched as Ran closed her slender fingers within them. "One day, _she_ might come to Gensokyo. If not her, some other enemy of yours, one that cannot be reasoned with. If they came with a mind to hurt you, what can you do alone?" Ran looked over her shoulder at Yukari.

She had set herself down on her knees, her golden eyes downcast.  
She said nothing, and continued to say nothing.

Ran accepted the prompt. "That aside, your youkai expansion project, the concept is brilliant. It needs finessing, but the fundaments… and I genuinely believed in Remilia Scarlet. She's cut from a different cloth, and…"

More silence. Ran turned her back once again, bunkering in as she felt kernels of resentment find her voice.

"And… misuse me as you like, but surely I can be put to better work? To have me survey and comb through the sycophants and the deviants, to correspond and interview the receptive candidates, only to dismiss them out of hand? Have I slighted you in some way, mistress Yukari? Is this some-"

"No," Yukari said forcefully, the following words growing gentler, "No, you haven't, Ran.  
I rejected her out of fear."

Ran mulled over those words before she turned over to face her mistress. Yukari smiled bravely down at her.

"Truly?" Ran asked.

"I am not familiar with sharing power, not since her," Yukari said, "And I still have many enemies in the outside world, as you've said. If they gathered…"

Yukari sighed and waved away the thought as though it was smoke in her face, her expression pensive.

"Do you – do you remember the argument we had, when you chose your familiar?"

"Chen." Ran said.

"Yes, Chen. Do you remember how agitated I grew?" Yukari asked.

"How could I forget? You were insistent I pick one matching my status. You were particularly pushy about a hakutaku."

"Yes, but you picked Chen. Not Zenki, Goki, or any of our other pets. You picked Chen. On a whim borne of pity, at that." Yukari remarked.

Ran felt a stab of guilt. It had been an impulse, one that a good servant should've been able to ignore.

"She cannot advise you, she cannot protect you, and is barely able to cast magic. She certainly isn't strong, and she's not _that_ fast." Yukari said. Ran felt stung.

"And yet, she's strengthened relations between us and the rest of Gensokyo's inhabitants in ways you and I couldn't indulge in or even conceive of." Yukari said with a smile laden with nostalgia. Ran felt her temper cool, the fond memory of Chen's antics lightening the mood.

"And what would you and I do without her irrepressible spirit running through the house?" Yukari asked. Ran didn't answer; instead, a long silence settled between the two as Ran watched her mistress, weighing the weary sorrow in Yukari's eyes.

"You still believe Remilia Scarlet is one to watch, on account of her lies, her impudence and the chance of her bringing fresh enemies to my door?" Yukari asked solemnly.

Ran felt her spirit lift, nodding warily. "She could one day become a threat to Gensokyo if left unchecked. Though, if she-"

"Then it's settled," Yukari's folded fan was suddenly in her hand, blurring open and clicking shut to emphasise the point, "Continue to monitor this Remilia Scarlet and provide me with reports on your findings.  
She will not impede the project."

Ran felt her vitality surge as she saw the calm light in Yukari's eyes.

"Yes, mistress Yukari; I've been receiving reports of a human befriending youkai, now trapped in Makai. Would you like to read it now, or after supper?" Ran asked, shedding the duvet as she got to her feet, the covers still hanging off her tails. Yukari turned to give her privacy, making her way into the living room.

"Ah. Let's read it now. I mustn't put things off, must I?" Yukari said over her shoulder.  
"Say, Ran?" Ran paused in the act of dressing herself.  
"Why do you care so much about this project going ahead?" Yukari finished.

Ran thought about her answer as she finished putting on her dress, tabard and hat. She crossed into the living room with the reports. "Because… when the outside world rejected you, you built your own, rather than submit. Yours is a vision I would happily make reality."

"Well said, servant." Yukari replied, her gaze lowered to the sheaf of papers now in her hands. When Yukari looked back up, Ran felt a thrill run down her spine. Gone was the dull, glossed over lethargy, her golden eyes now shining with a mischievous, inscrutable light, underlined by her knowing little smile.

"I've increased the limit on your command capacity. Finesse the orders you've given previously and create new ones for your additional agents. Be quick now - tonight, we redraw the maps."

There it was, as it should be. Ran was the vessel of Yukari's will, and she would carry it out to her master's satisfaction. She'd have it no other way.

"Yes, mistress Yukari." She smiled demurely as she dismissed herself, her mind already abuzz with broadened search patterns and shikigami hopefuls she'd been keen to put to work.

* * *

**London, Day 2**

Like always, the sounds of knives thudding on wood began at four o'clock, going on for an hour as Meiling paused in her practice.  
It wasn't a great range for throwing – it was a narrow stretch of bad soil between the back of the mansion and the shed – but it sufficed for her needs.

"Are you sure this is okay?" She asked, glancing back at her audience. Patchouli Knowledge waved her on to continue whilst 'Sakuya' stood there, wearing a nighty and a vacant smile.

"Yes, yes – this does interest you, you said?" Patchouli asked testily, her eyes lifting from the book she held before her. She had caught the silver haired servant girl looking through the window at Meiling as she flung knives across the yard and proposed that their guest might want to observe the Chinese girl's throwing style close up.  
Sakuya answered her - then and now - with a smile and a demure 'yes, very much so'. Patchouli nodded, her gaze lowering to the rough sketch she was making in a leaf of paper inserted between pages.

"Splendid. I find the knife throwing ever so soothing." Patchouli lied, her flat monotone giving little away.  
Meiling could pick up on it, and already she started, "But you said las-"

"Throw, now!" Patchouli groaned. After giving a sheepish look, Meiling obeyed, casting the knives down range.

"Splendid." Patchouli said without enthusiasm and without seeing where the knives landed. Her purple eyes squinted at Sakuya – no, just above her head, where the glowing hex loomed. It was of an esoteric design, familiar and yet foreign to the teenage witch. Patchouli was on the cusp of cursing Sakuya for moving and spoiling her covert examination as the latter gingerly moved forward.

"Excuse me, miss Meiling?" Sakuya asked.

"Haaa?" Meiling smiled, her tone betraying exasperation. Patchouli only then realised that the dummy downrange had only a few knives jutting out of it.

"Allow her, Meiling. I'd like to see the human's technique." Patchouli said aloud, her gaze jumping between page and maid.  
Meiling bowed her head in deference, offering a knife grip-first.

"I'm the only human here, am I?" Sakuya asked as she took the knife, her silver eyes examining it closely, from the point, down the edge to the solid-blue handle.

"I am Remilia Scarlet's magician." Patchouli said nonchalantly as her pen-hand danced, the nib scratching the paper.

"Whilst I am Hong Meiling, dragon of the east and gatekeeper of the mansion!" Meiling thumped her chest as she puffed herself up.  
She was glad to hear the silver-haired girl giggle in response.  
"Doubt us, hmm?" Patchouli asked.

"No, I don't, truly – it's just difficult to tell fact from fantasy, after all that's been said and done." Sakuya admitted.  
Meiling watched with interest as Sakuya weighed the knife in her hand, the pommel of the weapon in the center of her palm. The servant girl's middle finger closed over the grip whilst the thumb rested on the flat, the index finger on the spine.  
Patchouli watched Sakuya's eyes throughout, wondering what secrets were hidden in that head of hers. She could not speak outright of what held her here in London even if she wanted to – if pressed, if made to, she was - according to Remilia's report - made to lose consciousness. If the girl was pushed too far or the hex was strained or forced in some way, there might be a more severe reaction.  
Meiling cried out in surprise as Sakuya's knifepoint struck the wooden practice dummy perfectly.  
"Very good! – umm. Would you show me?" Meiling asked.

Sakuya looked past Meiling's brittle smile to Patchouli giving her an encouraging nod.  
"I'd be honoured, miss Meiling. Perhaps- perhaps you could teach me those movements I saw you doing?" Sakuya asked.

"Ahh, you mean tai chi chuan!?" Meiling exclaimed with a grin and wide eyes.

Patchouli's look of exasperation coaxed another laugh out of Sakuya. "Yes, that," The maid agreed, "May I hear that again, tie…?"

"Tai chi chuan! The cosmic fist from the east," Meiling declared, all smiles and posturing, "a martial art to hone the mind, the body, and flow from attack, defence, and back again! Why, the benefits to one's health alone makes it a miraculous thing, wouldn't you say, miss Patchouli?!"  
Patchouli Knowledge stared at the ground, and for a moment Sakuya thought she made topple over in some vain attempt to avoid engaging Meiling.

"Yes, yes I would." Patchouli murmured, as though reliving an embarrassing memory.

"Now if miss Knowledge says it is so, who are we lowly employees to argue? Yes, I will take you under my wing, miss Sakuya!" Meiling promised.

Patchouli watched Sakuya as she nodded along and gracefully followed Meiling's lead, her attention on the magical collar, the hex that hung over Sakuya's head like an executioner's blade.  
Somewhere in the stark, pointed glyphs that decorated the hex's 'body', she saw Remilia's chain – near invisible and as thin as a thread – hanging over it.  
_Always interfering, aren't_ we?  
Patchouli's secret little smile gave nothing away as she completed her sketch and quietly left Meiling to teach her new student the initial movements.  
She returned to her sanctum, to the blood red carpets and walls laden with books and scrolls and grimoires and artefacts.

"Miss Patchouli! Ah!" Koakuma rushed down the bookcases, a cobweb-flossed feather duster in hand, "Welcome back! Did you forget your medication?! How is the new girl?!"

"No, and she's fine." Patchouli whispered, a handwave suppressing Koakuma's clamour.

"Mmm… we will need white bryony, and a knife." Patchouli decided.

"Oho! Who're we making mischief on?!" Koakuma asked with relish.

"You misunderstand, little devil – this poppet will be a protective for our new girl. Our stores of turmeric are…" Patchouli threw a half-lidded glance to Koakuma.

"We have aplenty!" She said with a smile and a nod.

"Good. Fetch me that and the lavender. Then you will take this," She lifted the sketch, "and find out where it comes from."

"Understood! Ah- what is it, exactly? It looks like it belongs to an eastern mythos." Koakuma asked, squinting up at the drawing.

"Your guess may well be better than mine. Under a spell of truesight, I was able to draw the sigils that hung over Sakuya the human."

"Oh. It's very kind of you to look out for her, miss Patchouli." Koakuma murmured, taking the drawing when prompted to.

"Hardly. If Remi has an interest in her, then I must protect those interests," Patchouli scoffed, "Now, to work! You and I have much to do, and much is yet unknown."

* * *

Time moved slowly as Remilia sat before her would-be instructor. She had asked to draw the curtains – that alone had almost seen her thrown out – and now they sat facing one another in the musty living room, illuminated weakly by the curtain-shrouded sunlight. Mister Osbourne had said little, and now seemed content to glare down at Remilia whilst she averted her eyes, her gaze wandering around the room. She saw an old black powder pistol mounted on the wall, piles of books lying on the table, a seven headed candle holder that stood on a dusty piano's top board, and a cabinet with a glass door, containing china and a small, boxed medallion.

"Why do you not meet my eye, girl?"

Her scarlet eyes lingered on the polished silver coin and the attached black and red ribbon that was displayed in the door of the cabinet.

"What's that for?" Remilia asked, her half-lidded eyes sliding back to the cantankerous old man who tried to wither her with his glare.

He glanced over. For a second, a crack appeared in his expression.

"I don't mean to pry," Remilia explained, remembering Sakuya's words, "but it behoves me to know, does it not?"

It seemed that had still been the wrong thing to say. Mister Osbourne's expression darkened.

"I served in- a war. In Africa. Distinguished Conduct Medal, for- actions taken, in defence of my unit." His voice was soft then.

"I'm sorry." Remilia said, recalling the portrait that Ruxandra had shoved her way.

"What on earth for?" Mister Osbourne chuckled in exasperation.

"To struggle, to shed blood, for the sake of some trapping?" Remilia sighed bitterly – enough to give the old man pause.

"Some trapping?" He asked, his voice going a little higher.

"Yes." Remilia said.

A silence hung in the air as she registered the quizzical loft of the brow and the expectant look in his eyes.

"To be rewarded some paltry thing," Remilia rushed out, rising to the pressure to expand on her answer, "after putting your life on the line and losing what you lost, it's disheartening."

"Mmm." The old man's sour tone returned, but there was an alertness to him now. He changed the subject. "Did she tell you that she nearly fainted in persuading me to give you another chance?"

Remilia blinked, already knowing who he spoke of. "No, she did not."

"She did not?" Mister Osbourne repeated the words. There it was again! Remilia chewed the inside of her lip, feeling put on the spot.

"I think Sakuya is something of a stoic. It is likely she is under-"

"Sakuya?" Mister Osbourne asked.

"The name I gave her." Remilia said.

"The name you gave her?" He asked - _again, with that damnable tone!_

Yes, the name I gave her! It means- if you cast some spell on me to loosen my tongue, _human, _don't think I won't-"

Mister Osbourne raised a hand along with his eyebrows, quietly marvelling at Remilia's body language. Most girls bristled or grew quiet when they were cross with him, but Remilia had risen to her feet, balled her fists and even made to advance.

"Are you familiar with parrots, miss Scarlet?" Mister Osbourne asked.

"Parrots? No." Remilia said curtly, her dainty chin jutting forward.

"They're exotic birds found in Africa, they've these long curved beaks and bright little eyes – a friend of mine introduced me to one of the locals, who had one of these parrots as a pet. The man had trained him to speak a handful of words, to the delight of everyone around them."

"You mean to make me a pet, then?"

"No," Mister Osbourne coloured at that, his frown returning, "Now shut up and listen to me."

For a second, Remilia thought she might rear up and roar at this miserable little… _thing_, in all his frailty and rudeness for thinking to talk down to her.

But the thought of Patchy crying again turned her fanged snarl into a thin line, nodding to indicate she was ready to listen.

"Good," Mister Osbourne said, seemingly unaware that he walked a knife edge, "I dubbed this technique 'parroting' because of that. You recall how I repeated every last few words from you?"

"The key to your sorcery." Remilia said. Her tone was accusatory, but the old man laughed. If only he knew how angry she was…

"That's kind of you, but no – when I repeated those last words of yours, gave you that prompt and a bit of breathing room, what did you do?" Mister Osbourne asked.

"I… I felt like I needed to explain myself." Remilia admitted.

"Exactly. No magic, just a higher, questioning tone of voice, the right words repeated and you're telling me more about yourself." Mister Osbourne said.

"Of course, there isn't any magic. Your people care not for that sort, forgive me." Remilia sighed.

"'My people'?" Mister Osbourne asked.

"The Jews?" Remilia asked – and though she could not feel warmth, she could feel that mister Osbourne's interest in her cool.

"Yes." Mister Osbourne said evenly, expecting something more – judgement, perhaps, or some slur.

But it was only Remilia's half-lidded smile that greeted him, her next words leaving him wrongfooted.  
"So it seems you mean to teach me, if you're instructing me in such techniques." She remarked.

Mister Osbourne's chair creaked as he leant forward, his white hair silvering as it passed beneath a bar of sunlight.

"There are some ground rules we need to cover, miss Remilia Scarlet, daughter of Vlad Tepes Dracula." He said sternly. Remilia flinched as those last three words were flung at her.

"If you or your parents seek to hurt…'Sakuya', as you know her, I will match that hurt a hundredfold on you and yours. Is that clear?"

Remilia's fangs ground against her teeth behind a closed lip.  
"I understand, mister Osbourne." She said.

"Good. Next, you will not lie to me on a matter ever again. Is that clear?"

Remilia frowned, her sullenness replaced with concern. "For the sake of us all, I may have to decline to answer some of your questions then, mister Osbourne."

Mister Osbourne refrained the urge to whip up his cane and gesture to the door, thinking of the silver haired girl and the promise he'd made to her. "Why is that, miss Scarlet?"

Remilia Scarlet thought carefully how to justify herself.

_Be honest with him, _Patchy had said, _as honest as is prudent to be._

"The… country, in which I live in, is torn apart by war. A secret war. A war where women and children are regarded as fair game, where men kill each other for sport, where their corpses are desecrated and used to decorate rooms."

Mister Osbourne was sitting straight now, attentive. Remilia wrung her hands, putting incredible thought into every word.

"I'm not… afraid of being killed. I've had to do things to survive. And… as a reward, my liege lord has told me that he will marry my sister or he will kill us all." She looked up to see Mister Osbourne's knitted brow. She tried not to think about the effectiveness of her plea, but he _did_ look moved.

"I've umm… found, a place to move to. With my sister, and," She thought of Patchouli, Meiling and Koakuma with a bashful smile, "and my knights… but I'm not to be accepted, not as I am now. My manners are lowborn."

Those last four words stole something from the pit of her stomach. She had never once come close to admitting that to anyone.  
And here she was, saying as much before a short-lived, already-dying human… she felt tears prick the edge of her eyes.

"If you help me, I'll be able to look after them, and I'm really scared that you're not gonna and-"

"Say no more," Mister Osbourne's voice cut through her words, "By God, girl, you lay it on thick." He said - not unkindly. Remilia let a breathless little chuckle escape her as her hand moved to brush away her tears.

"I was thinking the same, quite frankly." For all of Edwin Barnes' smoothness, his words were like a hammerblow, shattering the moment.

She rushed to her feet, instinctively putting herself between mister Osbourne and the intruder and his plastic smile.

**Author's Note: Feedback is always appreciated. Please stay safe, everyone.**


	6. Chapter 6

**London, Day 2**

"Who the devil do you think you are, wandering into my house?!" Mister Osbourne snarled.

"Oh, forgive my manners. I was led to believe this was an establishment where one could learn. Manners, I mean," Edwin Barnes simpered, "Am I not correct? Or am I witnessing a young miss Scarlet visiting a needful old man unaccompanied for…? Oh, scandal."

Before mister Osbourne's growl could leave his throat, Remilia purred, "Ah, the perceptive mister Barnes, you had the right of it the first time. I'm a little… shaky, with how things are said and done in western Europe, so here I am, to take lessons! I must apologise for any upset I may have provoked back at the circus, my maid – your maid – told me my tone was a little sharp. Please, know that I'm sorry."

Edwin Barnes' hawkish smile faltered for a moment. "Upset? Certainly not." His tone was waspish.  
Remilia allowed herself to smile smugly for all of a second before her words flowed on.  
"I'm ever so glad," She rushed out, "and speaking of upset, your maid, she grew faint last evening."

"Oh, she'll put those on. My advice is to ignore those – she's playing it up or she's utterly lacking in vitality. It does neither of you a service to entertain her deceit or her tardiness.  
Mind you, whilst this has been a novelty – persisting without my maid – I think this trial period has come to an end-"

"But it's not even been a week, mister Osbourne, I thought you a man of your word?" Remilia asked.

Edwin Barnes shook his head, his blank smile giving nothing away. "Now, you did rather catch me off guard when you suggested that-"

"It doesn't matter! I'm sorry if I caught you at a bad moment, but you agreed!" Remilia protested.

"Well, that's too damn bad, miss Scarlet," Edwin Barnes said testily, "You'll have her for the rest of today so you can secure yourself a guide or a bodyguard_, b_ut without any kind of recompense-"

"Mister Barnes, was it?" Mister Osbourne asked.

Edwin Barnes' smile grew wider as he redirected his gaze to the tutor. "Yes?" He asked.

Mister Osbourne raised one of his hands to pat the coat pocket at his chest before his fingers slipped in, fishing out the envelope Remilia had given him, his eyes hard as he wagged it sharply.

"One hundred pounds." Mister Osbourne gave the envelope to Remilia, who in turn presented the envelope to mister Edwin Barnes. He initially made to wave it away.

"I will not rob an independent tutor-"

"Please," Mister Osbourne said with an appraising eye and a furrowed brow, "I would not be able to accept Remilia Scarlet as my pupil if she cannot deal with others fairly and cover their costs in a prompt manner."  
Remilia stood before Edwin Barnes, offering him a sickly sweet smile along with the envelope. "Just for the rest of the week.  
It would be a peculiar move not to take this offer." She pointed out.

He was trapped. He could not have the tool that was his maid returned to him without drawing suspicion on himself. He couldn't kill Remilia and the human – the last time he had resorted to such direct tactics they'd had to flee France, and his sister had promised him punishment if he drew the attention of the authorities down on them again. If he was still truly human, perhaps he might know the thing to do, the platitude to say to hold onto the maid without making a scene.  
With frustration threatening to consume it, the creature let the façade slip for a split second to reveal the void to the vampire princess.  
The thing that wore Edwin Barnes stared down at her, its pupils tightening to pinpricks as the flesh let out a nervous laugh. He had learnt that, at least. The laugh. The face-saving, go-to reaction of all humans.  
The borrowed face chuckled as the deep set eyes burned with rage.  
Remilia lifted her chin – as though she was daring him to strike – and smiled sweetly.  
And it reined itself in again. It was Edwin Barnes again.

"You've backed me into a corner, my dear Remilia! Fine, I will take your money, and be thankful for it!" He declared in a voice caught between a growl and a laugh, his hand flicking out and snatching the envelope of money in a fist.

"I do apologise for taking so long to pay you." Remilia said, not meaning a word.

"For the maid? Say, where is she?" Edwin Barnes sighed.

Wrongfooted, Remilia answered, "I thought I'd give her the day off. She seemed exhausted."

By the narrowing of his eyes, Remilia felt she'd said something wrong.

"Oh, is she trying that on again? Careful now, young Remilia, she's a workshy at heart."

"Mmm," Remilia sounded, "I will take your words into consideration."

Mr Osbourne said nothing, despite it being his own home. It was only a rake of a gentleman with a creased and expressive face and a young lady he had promised to tutor. There was a tension between them, that was undeniable-  
but this was a moment he felt powerless to cut in on. To do so was to risk all.  
Edwin's hand blurred up. Mr Osbourne flinched.  
Remilia stood firm as Edwin tore the envelope from her grasp. "Well, seeing as I have compensation, I'll be going now. Do be swift in securing protection, miss Scarlet.  
There are a lot of bad people round your neck of the woods."  
Remilia's wit failed her, far too involved in watching the man for any sudden movements.  
Edwin Barnes turned and rushed out of Mr Osbourne's house.  
At his departure, Remilia's shoulders sagged.

"What was that?" Mister Osbourne's voice suddenly reflected his advanced years. It was a haunted, fragile whisper of a thing.  
Remilia didn't have an answer for him.

* * *

Edwin Barnes' fists were balled as he returned to the Chateau Obscurum. It wore the number and name of 14 Adler street, its black walls painted over a creamy alabaster white, its barred windows curtained to conceal the opulent interior. The house had flaunted itself in France, to survive today in England it would embrace the art of subtlety.  
He approached the great black doors, its iron glittering with inlaid slivers of adamantine.

"Open for me, old friend." Edwin said in a casual tone.

Prosechtikos stirred, the long, almond shapes in the ironwork opening into cold, ebon eyes.

"You are without your maid, 'master Barnes'." The doors noted.

"And you are without your titanic charge," Edwin replied coolly before lifting his chin, "Open up."

The black eyes stared back at him before the metal eyelids slid shut. With a heavy thud, the doors opened.

"Summon the others." Edwin said as he walked between the great doors.

"Even mistress Jill?" Prosechtikos groaned.

"Yes, her too," Edwin hissed testily before stalking on inside, the faded, flaking wallpaper blowing as he stormed past them, "Now gather them."  
_Jill. His 'sister'. She would be displeased._

He moved through the banquet hall, glancing over at the empty chairs and the spotless grand table, a thrill going through him that rippled through his borrowed flesh.

He walked on through the hall of memories – a corridor with a long, mauve carpet, its walls bedecked with paintings of elegant men and women in the prime of their lives, those paintings in turn framed by tendrilled black veins that seemed a part of the hall.  
His spirits lifted when his eyes darted from picture to picture.  
Though his mood dampened when he saw the woman in the ocean blue dress watching him from a painting of the lovers of 1850.  
"Morgen." He'd say, a warning hardening his tone.

The woman in the blue dress began to smile.  
"Sharp as ever, 'master Barnes'." She'd say, already rounding the inanimate young hopefuls to enter the foreground.  
"Would you give me a hand?" She asked.

Edwin Barnes stared stiffly at her before approaching the painting and offering his arm. Morgen reached out, her fingers breaking the surface of the painting as though it were water. Edwin took them roughly, pulling her down. Morgen's laugh was a vibrant, lively sound as she leant into him as her feet touched the carpet.

"My, ever so violent, master Barnes…" Morgen cooed, her pale face framed by the rivers of her dark hair, "may I be so bold as to suggest you save your strength for our special night?"

Barnes thrusted her back, but her feet would slide across the carpet, her hands still grasping his.

"There may be a need for violence soon enough, siren." He warned her.

"Mmm…" Morgen would relinquish her grip on Edwin's hand. Only when she inclined her head would he go on, "Someone displays an interest in me."

"Oh, an untoward interest?" Morgen would ask as she followed him towards the doors that led into the inner sanctum, paying no heed to the dampening stains that hung beneath the eyes of the lovers.

Edwin did not elaborate. Instead, he waited until they had opened the doors. It was a place where no guest was permitted to enter, and for very good reason.  
The walls of this place were carved and hacked from the very stuff of reality. Cut and gouged and then polished unevenly into a raw, bruise-purple cavern, the nerves exposed to the hostile cold, the inky blackness of the cosmos running beneath the clotted surface.  
It was an impossible wound made in the air, in space, in the fabric that made up this world. It was a place of wrongness, of violation.  
To Edwin and his cabal, this place was home.

That same cabal sat around the great table. Sergei sat hunched in his chair, his posture enough to tell Edwin that the Lady sat upon his shoulders, listening carefully.  
To the russian's left sat Alhajin. His skin had been blackened by fire long ago, his eyes flooding yellow light as he stroked his forked beard.  
The beast Edwin liked to call his pet lurked beneath the tables, hands grasping, legs shuddering.  
And last but not least – never, ever least – was his sister Jill. Though she sat in her short-skirted mourning gown with her chin pointed away from him, the single eye that saw him bored a hole in him. She must know already what he would say, damn her.

"We have seemingly attracted foreign attention." Edwin started.

"No." Sounded Morgen, her grin replaced with an immature pout.

"Not from France, the witch-hunters or any other such authority," Edwin soothed, "But a young girl; Remilia Scarlet."

"A young girl?" Alhajin's voice yawned like the bellows of a forge. "A human girl? Wish it so, and I will kill her."

Edwin liked Alhajin. The Arabic accent, the stretching of vowels, the rolling of r's… and his utter subservience to Edwin and his sister made him a pleasure to speak with.  
Though he spoke far too plainly for Edwin's tastes.

"Oh, that's hardly necessary. I've a mind to invite her to this estate, see if we can sate her curiosity quietly."

"Two girls instead of one? Oh, how exciting!" Morgen clapped her hands together.

"The Scarlet heretic… not so easy." The Russian said.

"What makes you say that?" Edwin found himself asking.

"She has servants-"

"Oh, _no!_" Morgen sneered.

"Servants that are strong. Servants with dark magics at their beck and call." Sergei said reproachfully.

"What's more, I believe these servants are talking to our dog. Trying to eke out a confession, an explanation, I don't know what." Edwin sighed.

"How do you know that?" Jill asked.

"She was not present," Edwin forced himself to look Jill in the eye, "and Remilia told me that she was unwell. They're trying to break it. Aren't they, Alhajin?"

Both siblings looked towards the demon who furrowed his brow.  
"I do not sense any attempt at intrusion, master. If you wish it, I can make certain-"

"Thank you, no." Edwin would breathe out. He'd spent most of the wishes owed to him already. He would need that last wish.  
Alhajin bowed his head, though Edwin couldn't help but detect a knowing little smile pulling at the eastern demon's mouth.

"So why is the dog with them and not here with us?" Jill asked, her voice a touch higher.

Edwin faltered.

She turned to regard the others. "It matters not," She lied, "let us focus on finding out all we can about Remilia Scarlet's servants, so that we can dismantle her household should we need to. Morgen, go and help the Lady Midday and her Russian. Discover how many staff they have, any weaknesses we can exploit. _If _we do this," She'd look Edwin's way, "We cannot afford mistakes.

Now get out. All of you."

The cabal obeyed the girl that claimed to be Edwin's sister. The creature beneath the table shuddered violently as though locked in place. Morgen threw an unimpressed glance to Edwin before she turned and left. Edwin himself made to leave.

"No, _you_ stay." Jill stated.

Edwin looked back and saw that Jill was staring directly at him now.  
Soon, they were alone. Far too quickly, Jill closed the distance, her long, wolfish face scant inches from his.

"It can't be like last time, can it?" Jill asked.

Edwin said nothing.

"We must be secret and careful and oh so subtle..." Jill went on.

"Yes." Edwin managed.

"Good, good… I couldn't bear to lose you, 'brother'." She whispered, her smile trying its hand at being sweet.

"No." Edwin agreed.

"We don't need to kill her, you know," Jill ventured, "We both know your imagination is overactive. She may just be a rude little brat, she may have nothing."

"She wants my maid-" Edwin managed.

"Shush. The maid does not matter. We can always, _always_ get a new one after we've disposed of the old. Besides, you spent a full-blown wish on her silence, didn't you? Didn't you, Jack-"

"Don't…" Edwin felt the hunger grow.

"Renée of Caen, would you prefer? Or John Stable, perhaps? Leonardo? George Sable? George Smith-"

"Stop it!" Edwin grated, feeling himself stretch as she rattled off the list of names, made him relive past exploits, getting closer to his real name, his true name…  
He realized he had his hands around her throat.

"Is this what it takes?" Jill would ask, her voice rising a little.  
She was smiling as she leant in.  
Edwin felt his fingers grip her neck, her grin turning lascivious in response to the mounting pressure. He wanted to stop her talking. He wanted her praise. He wanted to not disappoint her. He wanted to kill her. He wanted to feel it again.  
But with _her_, it would be an empty thing, counterfeit. His fingers relaxed, the dark hunger growling beneath his fragile skin, the need yawning within the very core of him.  
He knew he could destroy her. He knew, he _knew!_ He had this power!  
But why was she still smiling?!

His fingers eased. She sucked in a breath.  
And she kept smiling.

"Know that if that's what it takes, instead of these messy games of yours…" She straightened, her suggestive expression cooling as she left their sanctum.

Edwin watched her walk out into the relative light of the hall of memories, keeping the shell that was his human body perfectly still as his ascended, darkling soul quivered. He feared and lived for the day when he could put her behind him, once and for all.

* * *

"So, how did your first lesson go, big sis?"

For a moment, the scarlet devil – who was clad in a black chemise made sometime during the renaissance – stopped looking down at the white and red chesspieces set between herself and her little sister. Remilia lifted her gaze and stared at Flandre, her eyes sliding up to Sakuya who stood alongside. The fireplace crackled, filling the silence.

"You told her, did you?" Remilia asked the maid.

"I- well, yes." Sakuya managed, her expression like stone as she tried not to flinch from what might come next.

Remilia pleasantly surprised her by giving little more than a shrug and resuming conversation. "I think we broke new ground, him and I. He's kinder than he seems at first glance."

"That's good." Flandre said with a nervous smile before she stared back down at the board, her legs idly kicking beneath her seat. Everything Flandre did was nervous, Sakuya observed.  
Even as she wondered about what was going on in the girl's head, her eyes were drawn to the long brown bones that branched from Flandre's shoulders and the multi-coloured crystals that seemed to sway with them.

"Will you tell me about your day, Flan?" Remilia asked, an idea hatching.

"Oh. Umm! Sakuya asked if I'd like to help her cook!" Flan's face lit up, blithely moving a pawn forward.

"What." Remilia spat out the word, her concern overriding her excitement to try her latest trick. _  
_  
"Cookies!" Flan answered.

"No, I mean-" For a second, it was as though Remilia ceased to function, shaking her head as her wide eyes looked for someone to aid her.  
But none of the regular residents of the house were in the dusty and dimly-lit study. She was trapped with her little sister and the newcomer. But! She could still demonstrate her new parroting technique.

"You helped her cook?" Remilia asked, lifting her voice as Mr Osbourne had done.

"Yeah." Flan said.

Remilia waited expectantly for the trick to work.

"Yes?" Flandre asked, suddenly red faced, thinking she'd not spoken properly.

"…Huh." Remilia's voice slipped out. _Mister Osbourne had made it seem so easy, before… _  
She'd have to press on. "Yes?" Remilia repeated.

The study's clock audibly ticked on by.

"Big sister's being weird." Flandre said aloud, craning to look back at Sakuya.

"Big sister's being weird?" Remilia said, hiding her irritation before abandoning that prompt and saying again, "You helped Sakuya cook?"

"Yeah." Flan said.

For a moment, Remilia contemplated snarling her frustration out and going back to Avalon lane to get her money back, but then she saw Sakuya pushing her own mouth up into a smile before indicating her own raised eyebrows, demonstrating an encouraging grin.  
Remilia emulated her with all the self-restraint given to an immature vampire.  
Flandre burst out laughing at the manic expression, whilst Sakuya politely looked away.

"Yeah, we made cookies!" Flandre cackled, "Silly sister…"

For an instant, Remilia looked as though she would rage at her little sister – but when Sakuya discreetly gave her a thumbs-up, she realised the technique was working.

"Cookies?" Remilia asked, her brow furrowing but her mad smile remaining.

She didn't enjoy being laughed at – but to hear her little sister laugh the way she did…

"Mmhmm. Bleargh," Flandre wiped her eyes as she got over her tearful laughter, "Chocolate chip. Sakuya was going to put fruit in it, but I stopped her."

"She did." Sakuya added.

"I see…" Remilia murmured, a little caught up. What part of the phrase was she to mimic now? _'Why fruit, Sakuya?' 'What kind of fruit?' 'Fussy Flan won't eat fruit?'_

"Fruit?!" Remilia demanded with an almost crazed expression. Flandre laughed at the absurdity, whilst Sakuya giggled.  
Remilia felt especially good when she caught the maid beaming at them both.

Remilia won the first game, and the one after that. Flandre started to lose some of her spirit, even as Remilia tried to teach her how to play well.

In her periphery, she saw Sakuya straighten impossibly quickly, her concerned, pursed lips replaced with a self-satisfied smile.

Before Remilia could mention it, she felt paper crumble beneath her resting hand. She looked down, her hand naturally shielding a note that had magically appeared there.  
LET HER WIN.

"Huh." Remilia sounded.

"It's your turn." Flandre murmured.

"…Yes, so it is," Remilia said, "Thank you, Flandre." She said, throwing a curious glance at the human maid – who simply stood to one side, seen but not heard.

Halfway through the third game, Remilia found herself threatening two of Flandre's pieces.

"Flan, I could take your pieces." Remilia cautioned. Flan looked to her, then back at the chessboard. Recognition turned to frustration as she realised what Remilia had done.

"When did that happen?" Flan asked dejectedly.

"You can save one of your pieces, but not both," Remilia told her, leaning on an elbow, "pawn, or rook?"

Flan looked over the crisis. Her big sister wasn't making it up.  
Remilia's white knight was ready to jump onto her red pieces. For a few seconds she deliberated before finally and decisively saying, "Pawn!"  
She started to move it out of danger.

"Ah- no, the rook!" Remilia protested excitedly.

"Why?!" Flan yelled.

"Because the rook can do more! It can move four directions as far as it'd like! The pawn's a foot soldier that can move forward!" Remilia explained – louder than she had to.

"They're _my _pieces, I can save who I want!" Flan said hotly.

"But the pawn is worse! In every way-" Remilia started.

"If the pawn makes it to the opposite board edge, it can become another piece entirely." Patchouli's voice woodenly stated, the rest of her purple-clad body silently floating into the study.

"Come now, you made that up." Remilia said archly.

"Not at all. Sakuya, are you familiar with the game?" Patchouli asked, her purple eyes framed by her purple hair.

"Yes. Yes," Sakuya hadn't expected to be addressed directly, "Miss Patchouli speaks the truth. It's known as promotion."

"Of course," Patchouli would say as her eyes narrowed on the maid, "It'd be a foolish gambit to rely on a pawn lasting long in the enemy's formation."

Sakuya felt her heartbeat skip at the implication. "Quite so." She'd reply.

"But don't let that discourage you, little sister," Remilia said, unaware of the maid and the magician's exchange, "Because imagine the opportunities that creates! It's dangerous to fight an enemy headlong, but if you hit them from the side or from within, where they're vulnerable, they'll wilt and be ground beneath your boot!" Remilia promised.

Patchouli would sigh. "Might we not talk of battle? Flandre should be in bed."

"But it's night-time!" Flandre exclaimed, already looking upset.

"Yes, but your elder sister is talking to a human in the day-time. She's adjusting her sleeping rhythm, and if you want to be up the same time as her, you'll have to adapt."

Flandre huffed, not really listening. She didn't like to be told 'no', no matter how good a reason it was.

Meanwhile, Remilia read the mood her oldest friend was in. "Flan, if you go to bed now, you and I will be able to play chess tomorrow."

"Can we play other games?" Flan asked warily.

The question put Remilia on high alert as well. "So long as they aren't too… rambunctious, yes." She replied.

Flan pouted all the same. "G'night big sister."

"Good night-" Remilia would say, looking to Sakuya- but as the maid moved to obey, Patchouli interrupted the proceedings.

"Koakuma, if you could put Flandre to her bed?" Patchouli asked curtly.

"R-right away, mistress!" Koakuma fussed into the room, followed by Meiling.

Remilia felt a frown forming. "Patchouli-"

Patchouli cut her off again, "I would like to speak alone with you, mistress Scarlet."  
_So formal. This was serious._ Remilia held her tongue.

"Meiling, if you could escort Sakuya to her room?" Patchouli asked as Koakuma hesitantly walked Flandre out.

"Yes, miss Patchouli." Meiling said good-naturedly, her easy smile turning on Sakuya. The Chinese gatekeeper indicated that she should follow with a nod of her head.

"Sakuya, in your room you'll find your new clothes." Remilia would say, slowing Sakuya's gait, "Garb yourself and await my summons."  
Bemused, Sakuya nodded before she was led away.

Patchouli followed them to the door of the study, closing it before seating herself across from Remilia. "Mistress-"

"Where did this even come from?" Remilia asked, lifting the note that had miraculously appeared beneath her hand.

"Who knows? What I do know is that that maid," Patchouli raised one of her hands with a visible effort, "there is more to her than meets the eye."

"Will Patchy explain to me what she sees, or is she gonna make me guess?"

Patchouli's half-lidded eyes stared Remilia down. The witch reached within the folds of her magician's robes, retrieving a cloth doll. It had been styled to wear a maid's headdress, silver thread sprouting from the head in uneven clumps.  
The neck of the dolly was crushed, as though clutched in a fist.  
"_Very_ cute," Remilia cooed, "Neck's a little thin, though."

"I'll let Koakuma know you said that, but notice her, the constriction? The human has been enslaved, chained by a djinn and given to another."

"Boo," Remilia pouted, settling into her chair as she looked at the dollet, "So Edwin Barnes met a genie?"

"That… or a less comfortable possibility is that he has one on retainer." Patchouli murmured.

"What does that mean, Patchy?" Remilia asked plainly.

"A djinn's wish can do as much good or damage as I can do given a week's preparation and the stores of the scarlet library in a single instant."

That caught Remilia's attention. "That's… significant." She murmured.

"If Edwin Barnes becomes an enemy, he could do spectacular damage to us," Patchouli stated dully before going on, "So please, forgive me for asking – but why do you _want _this human? She seems more trouble than she's worth." Patchouli said.

"She interests me." Remilia said dismissively.  
"Please elaborate?" Patchouli asked.

The witch's insistence took Remilia by surprise, putting a finger to her own chin as she thought about her answer, a wistful smile pulling at her mouth as she recalled their meeting in that noble's courtyard.  
"She told me she'd put slugs in Lady Olivia's soup."

Patchouli blinked. "I'm…" She thought back, a smile creasing her face. She had watched the maid comfort her friend through the looking glass.  
Patchouli shook her head as Remilia giggled.  
"Ahh… Not the answer I was expecting." Patchouli admitted.

Remilia enjoyed the magician's smile a moment longer before she sighed, her eyes lowering to the chess board. If things went badly, she would be locking horns with a being who was immune to fate manipulation and spyglasses, who had a djinn at his beck and call.  
It would be foolish not to prepare for war.  
"Can I rely on you and Meiling to keep the mansion well protected?" Remilia asked.

Patchouli took her cue, getting to her feet. "You want me to prepare the mansion for a hasty getaway _and_ augment the countermeasures?"

"I figured you could use a challenge." Remilia said.

"A challenge." Patchouli did not have the energy to properly scoff. She bowed her head. "Consider it done."

Patchouli went on to walk out of the study, her fingers drumming on the book she held to her chest, whilst Remilia idly marched a white pawn to the opposite end of the board, letting it topple before she picked up a red knight. She examined the scarlet chesspiece, the firelight painting it gold.

* * *

Sakuya was used to the ankle-length, dull-black and off-white dress-and-apron combination normally afforded to maids of her station. It was matronly, unobtrusive, conventional.

The uniform lying on her guest room bed was anything but. The collar had a red trim that was bridged by a green ribbon, the rest of the outfit a deep blue and clean white – and the length of it stopped before the knee.

She could already hear the people's judgements, calling such attire wildly improper, and her a tart.  
If Sakuya had to describe it in a word, she'd call it 'fun'.

She set to donning it, wanting to be ready when her mistress called for her presence.

When Sakuya was called, Remilia would be waiting for her in the Scarlet Devil Mansion's family room. It was a spacious room, the carpets a red velvet, the couches, display cabinets and dressers either cream white or solid black, all of those colours and shades obscured by the thin film of dust that seemed to permeate every other room in the mansion. The maroon curtains were closed, the room barely lit in the dimming glow of the room's lights.

She heard the mistress before she saw her, the laboured hiss making Sakuya freeze for a moment. She saw the fangs in the darkness, the open mouth, and felt fear scrape down her back.  
Then Remilia finished her yawn, a hand going to rub her eyes.  
"Mmm. Patchouli told me I'd develop a sleep debt, with these odd hours..." She murmured absently.

_Those fangs… _Sakuya forced herself to calm down. "I am here, miss Scarlet." She said.

"Yes you are," Remilia replied, her sleepy eyes registering the maid, "Because I have questions to put to you."

Sakuya felt her anxiety return. "I shall answer if I am able." She said.

"In return," Remilia decided, "You will get to ask questions of your own. We'll take it turns, say?"

Sakuya blinked, then nodded. "If that is your wish, little miss."

Remilia stared at her, and the maid couldn't decide if she was scrutinising her or if she was simply sleepy.

"That silver pocket watch…" Remilia said.

Sakuya froze.

"Ah, _there_ it is. You wilt, just as you had at the circus." Remilia said smugly.

"I'm sorry, mistress," Sakuya whispered, "But I'm not hearing a question."

"Mmm. What is its significance? When Barnes flouted it, you were most interested in it." Remilia stated.

"Do you mean 'flaunt', mistress?" Sakuya asked.

That wiped the smirk from Remilia's face, her red eyes brightening in the darkness. Sakuya stood there, staring down that angry gaze before she heard Remilia speak again.

"Maybe.  
Now, tell me about this watch. Did your parents leave it with you? Does it hold power over you? Is that the trinket that allowed you to place the note with me?" Remilia asked rapidly.

"Does it matter?" Sakuya asked irritably, feeling her heart-rate spike as she spoke so impertinently to her mistress.

The red eyes silently gazed up at her. Then those shiny teeth were revealed within a devilish smirk.  
"It might, and you are right – there are better questions to ask.  
Sakuya?"

That broke Sakuya out of the hole she'd shrunk into, her silver eyes widening. "Y-yes, mistress?"

"Just raise your palm if I get to be too… scary. Okay?" Remilia asked.

"A-alright. Shall I get the lights? It's awfully dark-"

"That won't be necessary," Remilia said, "I can see you just fine."

Sakuya swallowed, nodded, and thought about her question. "Are any of you human? Meiling called herself a dragon, and Patchouli, a magician."

"Nope." Remilia said.

"…I see." Sakuya replied, curious and afraid – for their sake and hers – to delve deeper.

"What does Edwin Barnes like?" Remilia asked.

"He…" Sakuya mulled over her words carefully, "He enjoys walking at night."

"Mmm, anything else?" Remilia would persist, her eyes growing half-lidded.

Sakuya blinked as her eyes welled up, the mental image of two entwined bodies fighting fiercely burning in her head. "He likes to dance, as well."

"Will he be dancing soon?" Remilia asked.

Sakuya paused.

"Will he be dancing soon?" Remilia repeated.

"Y-yes. Four nights from now, a gala will be held."

"How exciting! I shall attend then, and the two of us shall dance, once and only once!" Remilia decided.

"You mustn't! You can't-" Sakuya started.

"Can't!" Remilia barked a laugh, "Oh, Sakuya, one day…"

Sakuya swallowed, unsure if that was a promise or a threat.

The smile seemed to grow gentler, the questions turning to warmer subject matter.  
"That reminds me. How did I do today, with Flandre, do you feel? You saw what I was trying for?" Remilia asked.

Sakuya didn't mind that she'd missed a turn, answering with enthusiasm.  
"Oh, mister Osbourne's parroting? Yes, you did very well. You adapted wonderfully when it didn't initially take." Sakuya told her.

"Excellent," Remilia said softly, her hands gently clapping together in the darkness, "it's a rare thing for me to enjoy a pleasant interaction with Flan, these days."

"I am sorry to hear that." Sakuya admitted. Despite everything, she still questioned what she had been witness to, down in the basement of Remilia's mansion.  
The part of her that clung to life feared going back down there again.

"Ah. One problem at a time," Remilia sighed, her toothy grin resurfacing, "The outfit I chose for you, do you like it? Nowhere near as stuffy as your previous attire."

"It- certainly defies today's expectations." Sakuya answered evenly.

"You like it." Remilia decided slyly.

Sakuya hesitated before she nodded her agreement.

"Good! I can't have my head housemaid dislike her uniform." Remilia said smugly.

Sakuya's expression cooled. "You won't give up on that, will you?" She asked warily.

"Nope!" Remilia declared, "You're doomed to serve me until the end of time. Best accept it."

Sakuya took in a breath. "Alright." She lied.

"I shall sleep now, if I am to attend Mr Osbourne's lessons. Escort to me to my chambers." Remilia demanded.

Naturally, Sakuya obeyed. Because she had been trained well with stern words, beatings and promises of worse.

Like most of the rooms in the mansion, It was sizeable, lavish – but it was dusty, the sheets unmade and pushed into a coiling bundle on the bed.

"May I straighten your sheets, little miss?" Sakuya asked. She imagined Remilia wanted to sleep soon, not wait for her to make the bed properly.

"You may." Remilia nodded.

Sakuya was diligent, and within a minute she was tucking Remilia in, who cooed at the treatment.  
_She really was a child._ Sakuya tried not to let her smile dominate her face.  
"Stay." Remilia said as Sakuya turned for the door.

"…Little miss?" Sakuya asked.

"Please, do call me mistress. You may as well get used to saying it." Remilia said matter-of-factly.

Sakuya wished Remilia would stop. The fiction she offered her was a delightful one, but that was all it was.  
She returned to the bedside.

"What are the things that are sticking out of miss Flandre's back?" Sakuya asked.

"Wings." Remilia's explained.

"I see. Well, they are very pretty. Might I ask where yours are? You are sisters, yes?" Sakuya asked.

"Patchy put a glamour on them. They're there, you just can't see them. Here, look." Remilia lay on her side facing the maid, lying still, the covers at her back gradually lifting as she demonstrated the span of one of her wings.  
"Hey, Sakuya?"

"Littl- Mistress?"

"You believe me?" She asked, "About me and Flan being vampires?"

"I…" Sakuya contemplated her next words carefully, "I've more reason to believe in miracles and monsters than most."

Remilia's wide, trusting eyes searched Sakuya's.

"Patchy warns me that you might try to hurt us. Is that true?" She asked.

Sakuya didn't know what to say. She wouldn't lie to her, but to tell the truth would lead to discovery, agony – and death would not be far behind.

"I don't want to." She managed, feeling her soul strain.

Remilia smiled – and for once, Sakuya saw a hint of nervousness in Remilia's expression. "I know you don't. Promise me one thing?"

Sakuya held her breath. Remilia went on, "If your master bids you dance with me… I won't begrudge you for your performance.  
But you will only move against me. Not Flandre, nor the other residents.  
Am I understood?" Remilia asked, her once warm voice suddenly frigid and without play, her teasing tone going cold and hard.

Sakuya realised her mouth was open, looking to it as she nodded. "Yes, mistress."

Remilia exhaled softly, the mood passing. "Good. You are dismissed, Sakuya. Go and sleep. Tomorrow, I plan to explain to mister Osbourne my… condition in some detail. You shall accompany me and hear what I have to say, if you'd like."

Sakuya bade the mistress good night before she did as she was told, quietly dreading the passage of time and the problems that would follow it.


	7. Chapter 7

**London, Day 3**

Remilia sighed as she closed the sliding wall closet door before opening it again.

No, still the same drab clothes.

She slid the door closed, lowered her expectations, and opened it again, the wheels squeaking as they carried the door along the frame.

She had scores of outfits of every shade for every occasion, she knew, but everytime she considered a garment she could find fault with it.

This one was too dressy.

This one was too sparse.

This one was too old.

And this one was too loud.

Besides, nothing leapt out at her and said _this was the attire of the scarlet devil._

"Give me something…" She muttered to herself, her fingers skipping over the smooth velvet-leather riding garb she'd worn back in the day, the azure kimono that had seen use in the Sengoku, the felt hat and hunting clothes stolen from a khan of khans…

"Is there a problem, mistress?"

Remilia would look to the door, where Sakuya stood waiting.

In her master's ankle-length maid's dress.

"Yeah, what're you doin' out of the clothes I picked?" Remilia's voice was a tired quaver.

"Whilst I prefer the dress you gave me, I fear mister Osbourne would not approve-" Sakuya started, her voice cut down by a wave of Remilia's hand.

"You're my chief maid. Go put on the attire deserving of that station." She murmured.

"…Yes, mistress," Sakuya decided to give up the fight, "Before I go change, might I ask what had you talking to your wardrobe?"

"Was I?" Remilia whispered, throwing an exhausted, baggy-eyed look her way before nodding, "Uhh. Don't see any dresses I like."

Sakuya nodded deferentially, "If I may be so bold, mister Osbourne doesn't much care how his clients are dressed."

Remilia frowned. "I'm struggling to care, myself. Go and change, Sakuya."

Sakuya did as she was told, walking through the cold, lonely corridors of the mansion until she heard the nervous pacing of Koakuma, who hurried into sight.

"Oh! Is the mistress with you, Sakuya?"

Sakuya shook her head.

Koakuma looked her up and down, taking in the sight of Sakuya's maid outfit before making a decision.

"Would you come with me, please?" Koakuma squeaked, her chocolate-brown eyes pleading with Sakuya.

* * *

"Why did you bring the human here? I asked for Remi."

Sakuya slowed her gait as Koakuma rushed on over to Patchouli, who stood with her back to the entrance hall's railing. Beyond and below them she could hear a high-pitched squabbling.

"According to the chief maid, lady Remilia is getting ready for her day, therefore unavailable, a-and as you can see, miss Sakuya looks the part to quash this incident!"

Patchouli's exasperated gaze slid off of her pet demon to regard Sakuya. There was a pause.

"Yes, I suppose you're right. Come here, 'Sakuya'." Patchouli ordered.

Sakuya obeyed, filling the space that Patchouli allowed her.

Beneath her was a gathering of maids on the red carpet. They were young – most of them were younger than her – and all of them had clear, transparent wings that grew from their backs.

Not one of them was happy to be there. Some looked tense and unaccustomed to this gathering, some frowned up at Sakuya, whilst some of the maids just stared sullenly at the floor or at the walls, disaffected.

"_You're _not Lady Scarlet!" One of the fairies declared.

Sakuya flinched, glancing Patchouli's way. She had hoped she might have been briefed as to what was going on before thrown into this.

"No," Sakuya's eyes returned to the speaker, "I am not."

"I-if you don't mind my asking, would you tell us who you are-" One of the maids started before two more fairies surrounded her, whispering in a huddle with her.

The original speaker – a maid wearing her black hair in a French bob and large round staring through spectacles – spoke more defiantly now, "Who are you, then?"

Sakuya inhaled through her nose, uncertain what name to give. "I am… Sakuya," she hesitated, "acting chief maid of Remilia Scarlet's household. She has business outside of the mansion today, so if-"

"Wrong! She'd be sleeping today!" One of the three fairies – a girl with long, sandy-blonde hair that split into bangs – yelled.

"She left us long ago." the last of the three fairies – the shortest, wearing her brown hair layered to frame her round face, warbled miserably.

"I-I'm afraid we don't believe you!" The maid with the black bob insisted, "we thank you for your hospitality, b-but we would like to resign! W-we're through working for a mistress who doesn't show her face, or - or who isn't even real!"

This was new to Sakuya. Ordinarily, she'd be told what to do, and she would meekly obey.

But with Patchouli and Koakuma observing her and this fairy stating her intent, it was apparent that meekness would get her nowhere.

"Have you been working?" Sakuya asked.

"What? Yes! Of course we have!" Sandy hair blurted out, incredulous.

"In almost every room I have been in, I have found dust, cobwebs and ash. In every room, there has been neglect. I ask again; have you been working?" Sakuya said coolly.

The fairies looked around uncertainly at each other.

"W-we've done our best, without Lady Scarlet's instruction however-"

"Lady Scarlet is to blame? That's…" Sakuya opened her silver eyes a fraction, "the sentiment you'd like to share with upper management?"

"N-no, it's not that-"

"What are your names?" Sakuya asked.

Before the fairy maids devolved into their anxious mutterings, Sakuya raised her hand.

"As your appointed superior, I feel obliged to learn your names." She said soothingly.

That eased them, though the fairies looked nervously to one another, some clearly preferring to remain silent then speak and risk reprisal.

"I'm Megane," The black-haired fairy with the spectacles stuttered, "a-and despite the circumstances it's nice to-"

"I'm Sandee." The sandy-haired fairy interrupted, warily looking up at Sakuya.

"I'm Penny." The girl in the brown bob said quietly.

"Megane, take a third of the fairies and set to cleaning the windows of the mansion. You will need to apply soapy water first, cloth second. Use ladders to- ah. If I may ask, those wings of yours, do they work?"

"Y-yes, mistress." Megane demonstrated, her wings flitting to take her a few inches from the ground.

"Excellent, then there's no need for the ladders. Sandee, I will need the clothes for the entire household washed, dried and ironed. Do you know where everything you need is?"

"Nope!" Sandee declared.

"Well, neither do I. Luckily, Remilia will be out today so you have the morning and the afternoon to find and implement your tools. Penny, the dust – can you and ten other fairies set to dusting and cleaning the surfaces? The family room, the study and the entrance halls are a priority."

"After which," Patchouli suddenly spoke, "Remilia will tour the house and inspect your work."

There was a gasp and excited chatter down below as Sakuya glanced over at Patchouli. "Will she?" Sakuya asked.

Patchouli nodded slowly. "Between us, I feel we can convince her, especially now that she is in this… transient stage."

"Thank you, miss Patchouli. Your support means a great deal." Sakuya said.

Patchouli smiled unpleasantly. "Oh, don't thank me yet. You are, after all, dealing with fairies." 

* * *

Once Sakuya was out the door and shielding Remilia from the smog-softened sun over London's streets, she allowed herself a sigh of relief. The fairy workforce had been a nightmare to organise from start to finish. Sakuya had been fairly sure one of the fairies had been sleeping whilst receiving her instructions.

Roughly a quarter of them had asked after Remilia. Some had hoped that she was well, others were nervous to perform to their lady's standard – and some had fearfully asked if there was a risk that they might bump into her during their work day.

That in turn made Sakuya wonder what kind of person Remilia had been.

"Sakuya," Remilia asked as they approached Osbourne's place, "Why was I to let her win?"

"Hmm? Oh, miss Flandre, last night?" Sakuya caught herself.

"Yes, exactly right," Remilia noted with a lazy smile, "I'd hear the 'why'."

"Mmm. Whilst it is important for us to overcome challenges, a sibling needs to have fun, and to have self-confidence. If all they can do is lose at the game, they'll stop playing." Sakuya decided, recalling the lessons she'd heard whilst sitting in on Osbourne's other clients.

"If I'd lost any of my 'challenges' to my enemies in Transylvania, it would've been the end of me." Remilia pointed out. Sakuya wasn't sure if it was the early hour or her suggestion of humility that did it, but there was less venom in Remilia's voice when she said that.

"Is Flandre an enemy?" Sakuya asked.

She heard a small sigh from her mistress as they waited for a horse carriage to pass before they'd cross the road.

"Of course not. She's my little sister." Remilia admitted softly, her voice barely heard over the clip-clop of hooves and the rattling thud of wheels crossing cobbles.

"That puts you in an ideal position to help her grow, for you to be fair with one another." Sakuya suggested.

"It's not as simple as that." Remilia spoke as though from experience, glancing over at her servant. Sakuya had followed her orders and put on her knee length dress with its red-trimmed collar, the apron, the headdress and the green ribbon.

"Well," Remilia conceded with a grin, "I'll think on your words, 'chief maid'."

Sakuya tried not to smile too enthusiastically. She tried to maintain a distance from this domineering girl and her wild assertations.

"So long as it pleases you, 'mistress'." Sakuya's words left her before she could stop herself.

"Mmhmm!" Remilia sounded.

As they began to walk, Sakuya looked over Remilia's choice of attire. The small girl had trapped her azure hair in a bonnet, her dress and skirts a brilliant turquoise, the black sleeves and hem trimmed in royal blue.

"Dressing to impress, I assume?" Sakuya asked as the traffic on the road finally dissipated.

"Ugh. I don't know," Remilia admitted, making her crossing beneath the umbrella Sakuya diligently provided, "I've got too many dresses to choose them, and few of them fit me."

"I think you chose well. If you'd like-"

"Yes?" Remilia asked.

Sakuya faltered. "If it would please you, I could perhaps find you something that might reflect your style, maybe?"

Sakuya almost bumped into Remilia as the smaller girl stopped ahead of her. Remilia smiled up at her, and for a moment looked as though she might hug the maid.

"Very well then! I'm counting on you, Sakuya.

Now, be ready to fight my corner." Remilia said as she knocked on the door of mister Osbourne's place. Sakuya smiled sadly.

On the side of the road they'd left, a coat, a hat and a scarf cloaked a great, dismal mass of flesh and wet hair that slouched in an overlooking alleyway, the thing's bloated lips pulling apart as its swollen eyes watched its quarry settle in for the afternoon.

* * *

"What the hell is she doing here?!" Remilia shouted.

Olivia De Vere turned in her seat, her eyebrows rising as she recognised the speaker.

"Miss Scarlet, you will lower your voice when addressing me!" Mister Osbourne said sternly from the front of his study.

Olivia De Vere said nothing. Her hair was blonde and curly, her eyes were as blue as the ocean, and her fair features were stricken by the confrontation.

Remilia stalked towards her. It didn't matter that Olivia was taller, she made room for the undead princess.

"Remember me? The 'clueless country bumpkin' from the other night?" Remilia snarled, "Or do you rely on your friends to jog your memory whilst they guard your flanks, you empty-headed little-"

"Miss Scarlet, sit down this instant!" Mister Osbourne started forward to part them.

That tore Remilia's gaze from Olivia, pointing a finger at her.

"_She _disrespected me! She _mocked_ me in front of her friends! This low, mean-"

"Be that as it may," Mister Osbourne cut her off, "you conduct yourself appropriately. Go outside and compose yourself, then return."

Remilia threw one last disgusted glance at Olivia before wheeling on her heels and storming out, resisting every urge to slam the door or mutilate the walls with her nails. She quietly gnashed and snarled and threatened outside the study, with only Sakuya there to listen.

"I'm not doing this. We should go home. I hate this, and her, that impudent, _impudent _little twerp-"

"Mistress Remilia, I thought this is what you wanted, to learn how to speak properly to people?"

Remilia ground her teeth, her grimace turning into a mean smile. "I see what you're doing, and it's not working. I don't need this grief! I'm a princess, and she, some whelp of some well off family! Whatever she's learning, I have no use for!

Besides, you think her a monster as much as I do! Why're you defending her?!"

Sakuya raised her hands in surrender. She was glad to be spared the nose-wrinkled, scornful glare that Remilia had fired at Olivia.

The vampire's furrowed brow and her bared teeth still put the maid on edge, however.

"Now, as to why you should follow this through," Sakuya started, "I think I have a good reason as to why you should go in there-"

"This should be good." Remilia sighed caustically.

"You are a princess, as you said. You'll be expected to speak to royalty, clergy, people from all walks of life. Is that correct?"

"You are." Remilia said hotly.

Sakuya nodded. "Now, etiquette is a fundamental skill, no matter who you're dealing with. If you disrespect someone, doors close."

Remilia flinched. "Doors can be smashed apart." She said, sullen now.

"Would that approach have worked with your little sister?" Sakuya snapped.

Remilia's eyes widened.

Sakuya had no choice but to press on. "When you dismissed Flandre in her room, she went into hysterics. You refused to meet her on her level and gave her no recourse, no way of finding common ground with you, so she lashed out."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Remilia grated out, "and I don't like the way you're talking to me."

"Please bear with me mistress," Sakuya continued, raising a hand before Remilia could rush out more, "that moment contrasted with how you handled her in the study. You were interested in her day. You smiled at her."

"I smiled like a loon." Remilia murmured, her embarrassment colouring her cheeks.

"You were _kind_. Miss Flandre didn't act out, she didn't cry, or storm out of the room."

"And you think I should be as kind to Olivia De Vere?" Remilia asked woodenly.

"I think… you should be forthright with her, so long as you can remain civil. Be cross with her if you must, but be polite." Sakuya decided.

Remilia realised she'd been holding onto her breath. She forced herself to exhale.

"Besides, there's every chance she might know something you don't."

Remilia laughed breathlessly at that sentiment. "A human, knowing something I don't?!"

Sakuya decided not to point out the irony of the mistress seeking out mister Osbourne's lessons on etiquette as they both re-entered his makeshift classroom.

* * *

It was a disappointing day.

Remilia felt wrongfooted, spending most of her time and energy ensuring she made no mistakes and gave no inch to Olivia.

It was enough to leave mister Osbourne exasperated during Remilia's evaluation, condemning her lack of attention.

It was Sakuya who came to Remilia's defence in the end, informing mister Osbourne of the 'breakthroughs' Remilia had made with her sister. The details Sakuya provided elicited a curious hum from the teacher.

"Oh? Has your relationship with your sister not been particularly healthy?" The older gentleman asked.

"No, sir." Remilia said.

"How so?" Mister Osbourne asked as Sakuya hovered to one side.

"I've been… overprotective of her," Remilia decided, "and dismissive of her wishes." She half expected mister Osbourne to scoff or scold her for such treatment, or perhaps ask for more.

"Hnn. Well," Mister Osbourne's thumb and forefinger massaged his temple, "Being aware of the problem is the first step, isn't that right?"

"…Yes, I'd say that's true." Remilia said evenly. She'd honestly expected more damning, sniping comments.

Mister Osbourne searched Remilia's eyes for a long time. Remilia could tell he wanted to ask more questions.

Instead, he chose to apologise.

"Sakuya informed me that you and Olivia's first meeting was an unpleasant one. I am sorry for not informing you about her inclusion in our lessons. Know that I am doing it as a favour to someone of some importance to me."

Remilia frowned ever so slightly, her eyes flitting from Sakuya back to the tutor before she spoke. "I do not like it, but I understand. So long as she keeps her tongue free of my name, there shan't be a problem."

Mister Osbourne's features began to furrow, but he held his tongue. "Well. For completing your first lesson…"

He produced a small wooden button.

"Take this home.

As long as," He'd lift the button beyond Remilia's grasping fingers, "you can tell me what you learnt today."

Remilia's lip curled up in a sneer. "I've learnt that Olivia De Vere will be sleeping with one eye open, if she knows what's good for her."

Even as she was shown the door, even as mister Osbourne's disappointed mutterings sounded in her ears, Remilia felt a caustic satisfaction rush through her chest.

She paused in the doorway, her eyes sliding up the door frame to the small box.

Her eyes began to sting.

"May I ask what this is?" Remilia asked as she glanced back at mister Osbourne.

The question took him aback, briefly forgetting his annoyance. "A mezuzah."

"What's in it?" Remilia asked as she forced herself to stride past it to reach the shade of Sakuya's umbrella.

"A scroll, called the klaf. To remind me God watches over this household." He stated.

"I see," Remilia sounded, understanding her discomfort, "Thank you for telling me this – and for the lesson. And I'm sorry for the way I acted. It was unbecoming, wasn't it?"

He grunted, his mouth a thin line beneath his grey moustache. Remilia turned to go.

"Miss Scarlet."

Remilia turned back in time for mister Osbourne to lift her wrist with a hand, his other hand pressing the button into her palm.

"I appreciate the effort, alright?" He said sternly, his tone just a little softer.

Sakuya wished him a good evening before the two girls walked homeward.

"So, how did I do?" Remilia sighed as they cut through the network of alleyways that came between Avalon Lane and the mansion.

"Your mistakes were obvious, but you impressed him with your recovery." Sakuya told her with a smile.

"And you as well?" Remilia asked.

"I thought that went without saying, mistress." Sakuya said warmly.

Remilia made a flustered reply before they hastened on through the alleyways.

For five minutes, they walked through alleyways that had taken twenty seconds to traverse coming the other way.

"Sakuya?"

"Yes, mistress?" There was a tenseness in the maid's voice.

"These alleyways aren't supposed to last this long, are they?" Remilia asked.

The both of them slowed to a halt, standing on a manhole cover in a shadowy row between two sunlit backroads that ran behind the houses.

"You couldn't have gotten us lost, Sakuya?" Remilia murmured.

"Certainly not, mistress. I know this part of the city like the back of my hand." Sakuya replied.

"Kill the girl…" A third voice rumbled.

An obese wretch in a coat, hat and scarf swayed into view. He smelled like death, his blue lips tripping over the words he spoke.

Remilia's pupils dilated.

"Behind me, Sakuya," She breathed.

"Claim the maid!" The corpse completed its host's mantra. It gurgled as it fell forward, splashing open as the beast of Hackney Marsh sprang forward, the coat and scarf flapping around its great, hairy form.  
Remilia got Sakuya behind her before the great fist blew the princess apart.

"No!" Sakuya screamed, the pitch of her voice rising as a blurring dark thing flew past her face.  
It was a crow- no, a bat.  
Several of them.  
They flooded past Sakuya and into the darkness of the alleyway, leaving her alone to stare up at the black mountain of hair. It was in the shape of a dog with the face and hands and teeth of a man, its yellowed gravestone teeth grinning down at her. It opened its bloody fist, reaching for her.

"Maid…"

The beast stopped, feeling something catch and strain at his throat.

It turned and saw the regathering Remilia Scarlet, her long knife pinning its scarf to the grill beneath them as the bats moulded with her body to become bone, blood, flesh and garment.  
It saw her devilish smile.  
"Is that all you got for me?" Remilia growled.

The beast snarled, rounding on her with a fist.  
Remilia turned the blade to lever the grill out of the ground, flicking the metal grid into the beast's face. It recoiled, its fist swinging short. It lumbered forward, expecting to have to chase after a foolhardy, harmless child-  
Remilia's knife points hammered into both wrist and forearm, eliciting a pained roar as it swung at her by instinct. Remilia weaved beneath the blow, giggling as she ripped her blades free.  
_Those knives shouldn't have hurt_, the beast wondered. Those few that had defended themselves against it hadn't had the determination to hurt it. There had been no strength of will, no 'meaning' behind their tiny fists.  
But the beast could not stand before the silver blades and the vicious devil that wielded them. It backed before it rushed down on Remilia in an attempt to smother her. Remilia mistakenly stabbed upwards and was bowled over and down through the open sewer grate.

"Remilia!" Sakuya shouted, rushing to the edge to peer into the splashing darkness. She looked about for something to ease the descent, for someone to help her-  
She saw one of Remilia's discarded knives on the cobbles. 

* * *

The thing that had rushed her hadn't expected the fall.  
Remilia flinched as she felt the presence of running water beneath one of her shoes. The smell made her retch as she coughed up marsh water. The coughs brought on spasms - she'd broken a bone, and the reknitting was excruciating.

She forced herself to her feet, seeing her assailant regather in the foetid sewer channel.  
Her gaze made the thing freeze.  
"Yes, I can see you clearly down here." She said with relish.

"What are you…?" The beast of Hackney Marsh growled out.

Remilia thought fast. She was fighting a no-account swamp thing on its home turf, with a river of running, uncrossable sewage water bisecting this cramped tunnel. She hadn't fed for a while, so her strength was limited.  
She needed to be in its head.

"Who do you think I am?" Remilia asked, tossing her remaining knife from one hand to the other.

The beast inched closer. From nowhere, Remilia remembered the newspaper Sakuya had bought her, the interest it had stirred in an urban legend.

"'I shan't quit ripping 'til I do get buckled'..." Remilia recited, backing it up with a mad grin.

That gave the beast pause.  
"Ripper…" It gurgled.

She had to attack now.  
She launched herself forward.  
The beast swept low with a mallet-like fist, breaking the sewer wall with a blast of soil and crumbling bricks.  
The beat of her wings had taken her above the swing. The beast reared back to strike at her, only to catch her claws at eye height.  
The beast roared in pain, blinded. It felt Remilia reach its back, her knife stabbing into him again and again and _again_. In a frenzied panic it groped for her. It could hear her laughter.  
Its massive fingers closed on her wrist. It pulled her over its head and slammed her down into the channel of filth.  
Into the running water.

She couldn't transform. She couldn't right herself. She couldn't even move, one hand above the waves floundering and spasming for a handhold. She could only hold her breath beneath the running water.  
_What a stupid way to die. _She thought as she prayed she wouldn't open her mouth when the beast caved in her sternum.  
_What an ugly way to die._

Sakuya dropped down into the tunnel and onto the beast, ramming the knife down into the thing's neck.  
The beast grunted, rounding hard and suddenly enough to throw Sakuya off. Still blinded, it snorted and sniffed, its massive gravestone teeth opening as its tongue tasted the walls and the walkways for her passage.  
Sakuya saw Remilia's hand clutching the stone walkway above the running sewage water. She'd thought to pull her out quietly.

"Get me clear!" Remilia screamed as she broke the surface of the water.

The beast twitched to face the noise, its fist swinging down on them.

Sakuya froze, and all of time did with her.  
She blinked. The monster stood over her, as still as a statue. The foetid waters were still, droplets of filth frozen in the air, with Remilia silently breaking the waves, her panicked expression trapped on her face.

She dragged Remilia out of the way of the monstrous fist before time resumed, sending a splash of sewage up.  
Sakuya gasped as she helped the scrabbling Remilia onto the stone walkway. The thing grunted in confusion.  
Sakuya thought she heard Remilia screech in fear, only to hear it deepen into a burning roar. She had assumed Remilia's reaction had been one of fear.

That was not the case.  
Remilia had been made to eat metaphorical shit for three days with beings she could snuff out with a thought, and now, to have nearly died to this third-rate monster in such embarrassing circumstances…  
No more knives. No chains. No mercy.

A pulsating scarlet light shone in her hand, one that crackled and burnt and lengthened into a spear. The light lit up the tunnel, illuminating her unfurling, leathery wings.  
"DIE!" She shouted.  
She cast the fabled Gungnir.

The beast of Hackney Marsh's chest deformed, gave and blew apart before the spear of Odin, the rest of the monster's body breaking and splashing the tunnel walls with gore, hair, rancid flesh and sewage waste.

For a few seconds, neither of the girls said anything.  
Then Remilia gave out a startling roar that turned Sakuya around.  
"This smell, all of it on me…!" Remilia growled, a snarl of disgust plain on her dirty face.  
She stopped when she saw that Sakuya was looking past her, to her back. Her small black wings hung from her shoulders.  
The beat of her wings had broken the glamour that Patchouli had woven.

"Well, I can't be seen like this, can I?!" Remilia snapped, burying her anger beneath a forced and shaky laugh.  
"You can get from place to place unnoticed, can't you?" The vampire asked.

"W-well, yes-"

Remilia cut her off, "Then please, please get me home. Please. I don't care how, just please..."  
Hesitantly, Sakuya obeyed. With the marsh beast dispatched, the space it had trapped them in normalised, turning from a never-ending alleyway into just another ordinary road between houses.

In the end, the inspection of the Scarlet Devil Mansion was delayed in favour of several baths and a short stay within the mansion's spa.

* * *

As Remilia lay on the settee in her bathrobe with her small black wings splayed to either side, she briefly startled her maid with a giddy chuckle.

"Ah… I can't seem to move."

Sakuya moved to her. "Mistress?"

"I may have forgotten to break my fast… I don't know how many nights ago!" Remilia declared, her head thudding softly back against the settee's head.

"How could you manage that, mistress?" Sakuya asked.

"It's been very busy round here," Remilia retorted, "Anyway, be a dear and get Patchy, she knows what's to be done."

"And what is to be done?" Sakuya continued.

"Mmm. Oh, Meiling and Patchy between them will be able to secure me a measure of sustenance.  
Admittedly, it'll likely leave a resident of this city light-headed, scared and screaming about blood-draining women and vampires, but who will believe them in this day and age?  
Sakuya?" Remilia would ask.

Sakuya answered her with a pained grunt. Remilia's head would loll to one side to see Sakuya wielding a silver knife. The silver knife Remilia had lost her grip on, cleaned and polished.  
Despite her light-headed state, Remilia's eyes widened.

Then she saw the red glaze in Sakuya's palm. The cup.

Remilia laughed in relief.

"Were you afraid there, mistress vampire?" Sakuya asked, bringing the stained cup close.

"Spare me, Sakuya, I feel faint," Remilia protested, "It's the silver."

"Will this be enough?" Sakuya asked doubtfully as she offered the cup, now half-full with her blood.

"Of course. I'm only little." Remilia's tone was playful as she took the vessel in both hands.

Sakuya sat herself down on the settee alongside Remilia, a towel held against the wound she'd made as the undead princess stared down into the cup. She had dug into her own palm with the knife's point.

"There are cleaner ways to drain blood, y'know." Remilia would point out as she sat up.

"I know." Sakuya said softly, her silver eyes meeting Remilia's.

Remilia held her tongue. Mister Osbourne had taught her about white lies and dark, malicious truths, and Patchouli's caution about pushing the maid too far was still fresh in her mind.

She drank from the cup, audibly relishing it. She lowered the cup that seemed so large in her small hands, sighing with relief.

"You're curious why I'd carry silver with me." Remilia said as she stared into the cup.

"Let's… talk about anything else." Sakuya replied.

"You'll have to return to them with _something_." Remilia remarked.

The servant girl said nothing.

"Silver," Remilia continued, "is pure. That purity makes it strong against my kind - and let me tell you, my kind are a rowdy bunch. It's also reliably effective against most demons, so it's good to keep them handy. We've an entire armoury of them, nevermind the cutlery..."

The servant girl lowered her head, her expression clearly troubled.

"The goal, the reason I am here," Remilia started anew, "is to learn some manners. When I tried to secure passage to our destination… I spoke poorly to its caretaker. She was a self-righteous bitch," She paused to enjoy Sakuya's brittle laugh, "but I could have been more careful."

Sakuya said nothing, so Remilia filled the silence.

"My nosey witch friend - who had been corresponding with the caretaker's servant - told me about this place, this scrap of wasteland worth nothing to anyone but the humans and demons that wage war across it. This land of fantasy."

Remilia made a point to glance over Sakuya's features. The servant girl was listening.

"It lies beyond a multicoloured wall of barriers and between great, apple-red pillars. It's just mountains for now, but they've plans for forests of every kind, of clear blue waterfalls and streams, of great sloped castles and houses from the east- oh, about the mountains! One stands above the others, Youkai Mountain, a veritable den of demons!"

Sakuya smiled uncertainly before she spoke, "Veritable?"

"Mighty!" Remilia corrected herself.

"And you'd… rule over this Youkai Mountain?"

"Me? No, let them have their molehill - at least, for the time being," Remilia smiled wickedly, "No, I've my eye on a great lake, where cold mists gather and where the lesser demons frolick. That will be our base of operations, where we keep our sphere of influence, yes…"

"Do you mean to wage war against this land?" Sakuya asked innocently.

"What, 'war' war?" Remilia asked. She remembered the sulphuric, horror laden countryside she'd rescued her sister from.  
"No, just games and stuff." Remilia said quietly.

Within a heartbeat, her enthusiasm had reignited.

"Our arrival will be talked about for several generations, I have seen it! You and I together, Sakuya, we will show man and demon alike why they should fear the night!"

The servant girl opened her mouth to object.  
"Is that so?" She chose instead, feeling her tears well up as she broke eye-contact.

"It is inevitable, Sakuya. Patchy's a big pile of lazybones and Meiling is to watch the door. I need someone at my side who has grace, charm - and they have to be someone courageous enough to fight for me, right?" Remilia asked.

"Oh, I'm not brave." Sakuya admitted.

"Says the human girl who literally leapt onto my monstrous assailant!" Remilia gasped before her voice turned sweetly sincere, "Well, no matter. You will learn to master your fear sufficiently. You will hold my umbrella, pour my tea, lend me your counsel and help me forge a path in this brave new world."

Sakuya unconsciously shook her head at the impossibility, her motion freezing when her gaze drifted back to Remilia - who simply stared back.

"I know how to pour tea." The servant girl managed.

Remilia opened her mouth to say something, instead thinking better of it and smiling broadly. "Now that _is_ a relief."

* * *

In the magic library, a wavering ball of flame hung above Patchouli Knowledge like a miniature sun. Everywhere around the library, clusters of candles and lamps glowed softly. Patchouli's desk was flooded with books, with the magician herself abandoning her work as she felt a familiar presence approach.  
"Is that you, Remi?" She glanced up from her book. She saw a tired Remilia being accompanied by a gaggle of worrisome fairies that preened and fawned over the scarlet devil.

"T'is. Have you had a productive day?" Remilia asked wearily as she raised her chin to indicate the dimming fireball.

"Practicing fire magic." Patchouli explained.

"Not your favourite." Remilia noted.

"Not my favourite." Patchouli agreed. Water magic benefited from an appreciation for stillness and conservation, and so she favoured that element the most. Whilst the other elements could be reconciled, fire was all energy, ferocity, passion.  
The very thought tired Patchouli out.

"How's your day been? Productive?" Patchouli asked, her purple eyes lingering on her old friend.

"I'll tell you when it ends." Remilia said before she allowed herself to be led further into the library by the bustling fairies that eagerly awaited her review. Patchouli watched her go, her mood souring.

In the end, Remi left the library without saying goodnight to Patchouli.

Instead, it was Sakuya that came to bid Patchouli goodnight.

"Your newfound workforce have been busy little bees, head maid." Patchouli said, not bothering to lift her gaze from her pages.

"I am happy to hear that." Sakuya said in a voice that suggested otherwise. As she approached Patchouli's desk, the magician sniffed at a warming aroma.

"Tea?" Patchouli asked sharply, as though shocked.

"Yes."

"Poisoned?" Patchouli asked, looking up at Sakuya's reddened eyes.

Sakuya smiled sadly as the teacup clinked on the table top. "If my tea killed you, I am sure my head would roll soon after."

"Compliments of Lady Remilia?" Patchouli asked as she brought the teacup close.

"Actually, I thought you might like it." Sakuya said.

"It smells… interesting." Patchouli noted.

"Ginger tea." Sakuya admitted.

"Ah, so you do mean to slay me." Patchouli surmised, her deadpan expression giving away nothing.

"No mistress, far from it - Koakuma and I were chatting last night. Ginger tea can calm the airways, for your asthma." Sakuya told her.

"How thoughtful." Patchouli said evenly, making a mental note to punish Koakuma later.

"May I ask-"

Patchouli scowled as she looked up from her book. "What?"

"May I ask why you hate me, miss Patchouli?" Sakuya asked.

"Do you care?" Patchouli sighed, her eyes sliding back to her leather bound grimoire.

"I do. Hate me as much as you'd like, so long as I understand the reason." Sakuya replied.

That got Patchouli's attention. She looked at Sakuya directly, slowly laying her book on the desk before closing it.

"I don't much care about the resurgence in disappearances that this city's papers have been raging about, if that's what you're worried about.  
I can't say the same for Lady Remilia." Patchouli warned.

"Yes," Sakuya managed, haltingly, "for that reason… you will explain to her? Once our association has reached its conclusion?"

"Maybe." Patchouli said, her purple-eyed gaze boring into Sakuya's head.

Sakuya nodded her thanks before making to leave.

"I don't hate you," Patchouli piped up, "But I do dislike you for being so weak as to accept your fate as a tool in Barnes' enterprise. And to leave me to talk to Remilia, to pick up the pieces. Thanks a lot, and thanks for the tea.

Now get out."

Sakuya obediently and silently left. Patchouli cracked open the grimoire, only to be interrupted again.

"That was a little unfair, don't you think?" Koakuma asked from above her.

"Ohhh, it's the gossipping devil, blathering about my weaknesses." Patchouli pointed out.

Koakuma landed, her expression clearly stung by Patchouli's remark. "I'm sorry... but, but we established that she's been weakened because of a wish, compelled to do Barnes' bidding and prohibited from spilling his secrets thanks to the Djinn! This isn't a lack of strength, this is stress that's beyond-"

Patchouli banished Koakuma with a snap of her fingers and turned her page. As Koakuma's form puffed into drifting tendrils of black smoke, she contemplated the little devil's point and whether it was worthy of rebuttal.

She took a sip of the ginger tea before she reluctantly snapped her fingers again, a sigh from the heart billowing out of her as she summoned Koakuma back.

In a puff of black smoke, Koakuma gathered above her and pitifully whined, "Miss Patchouli, how I hate it when you do that!"

"Why are you sticking up for the human?" Patchouli asked.

"Why aren't you? Why, I thought you'd be more understanding, considering-" Koakuma stopped as soon as Patchouli's frown deepened.

Patchouli stared her down for a long while before she broke her silence. "Your punishment for divulging information about me will be delayed, little devil. Go and proof the bookshelves and set these hexes in the following locations."

Koakuma diligently obeyed, fluttering away into the depths of the library.

Patchouli tried to continue writing before she sat back and wafted the gingery scent of her tea towards her. A few seconds passed as she experimentally cleared her throat and took in a few deep breaths.

Grudgingly, her free hand went forward, pushing the books atop the pile away to allow '_Eastern Mythos:_ _A Reference On Eastern Magicks'_ and '_A White Witch's Guide to Counterspelling'_ to resurface.

She took a slurp of her tea before she set the cup down, brought the two books close and began her work.


End file.
